,
I’ve suddenly become obsessed with yeast. Or, lack of.
Its complete disappearance from grocery shelves has left me on edge,
anxious about when the next shipment will arrive. That is, IF it will arrive and IF I’ll be able
to snatch a batch of the highly coveted squares.
What makes this statement even more ludicrous is the fact
that I’m not a baker. Heck, I don’t even
cook, let alone own an apron or rolling pin. I subside on frozen pizza, nourishment that is
grown in tins and pre-packaged take-away.
The odd veggie thrown in for good measure, blended with a handful of
vitamins more than fulfills the nutritional requirements listed on Canada’s
food group guideline.
Add a splash of antioxidant infused Shiraz and I’m starting
to glow. After all, no need to deprive
myself of the benefits of age reversing resveratrol. Well, not like anyone is able to visit anytime
soon, but nevertheless, there still is hope for an outing in a distant tomorrow.
Sequestered at home for weeks on end, I’ve been binging on
reruns of cooking shows, a much-needed distraction from devouring the grim
statistics of 24/7 news broadcasts. With
real estate at a premium in Le Confining Apartment, I had no choice but to
venture into The Kitchen, just for a change of scene.
So, where to start?
I own a toaster oven, a few pots and pans, a blender and a 1970’s
percolator. Just don’t ask about the
stove. Oh, and a set of Dutch patterned cups
purchased in the one and only shop that was open in Delft when all of the other
vendors were “Gesloten” (Closed) on a holiday Monday. Memories.
But that was then and this is now. Shuttered shops and sheltering at home is the
“new normal” and I’m on the hunt for yeast.
The need to knead is real and I’m in a quagmire. I can’t get started. Where to begin?
I haven’t a clue.
Next thing I know, the kitchen’s a mess. The cupboards are bare, soup and sardines in
tins strewn everywhere. I’m slipping on
dried beans, packets of vintage crackers and fossilized who
knows what. Came dreadfully close to
an unexpected hospital stay when an avalanche of canned corn almost knocked me
out.
My well-stocked pantry apparently expired in 1989. Not a good sign.
With my fleeting Martha moment now a shelved thought, I’ve
more pressing matters at heart – Kitchen Clean Up!
On the chase for disinfectant and wipes!
 |
| Memories of Happy of not so long ago in Delft. |
 |
| Closed. Shuttered. The sign says it all. |
 |
| The scribbling continues... |
Next post: Sometime next week - The w/o May 18th,
either Tuesday or Wednesday or thereabouts. Stay tuned!
Where the journey continues on a vintage
caboose in Wales…
Addendum:
I was on the hunt for yeast this week and have
no idea what exactly sprouted my obsession to attempt to bake loaves. I'm a thinker and a scribbler, yet these quarantined times have left me surprised as I contemplate and reflect on a new tomorrow.
I felt compelled to share and that is why
this week’s blog post veered a tad off track and left me stuck in The Kitchen
instead of reminiscing about a vintage caboose ride in Wales.
The struggle and challenges of our new
quarantined reality are oftentimes overwhelming. But, it is not all doom and gloom. We are all in this together and we will
persevere as we look forward to a new tomorrow.
Penning my thoughts and sharing my perspective
(albeit with a touch of much needed humour) is what I need to do.
A bit of reflection, contemplation, a laugh
and a rhyme…
Till next time!
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