DREAM COOKING

The doorbell rang in the night, but that was probably a dream, as there was no one there when I checked. Sleep then brought me beef stew, happily quivering in a long dark hallway and humming to itself. Unappetizing beef stew. No spices, salt, or flavour. Fortunately that didn' last too long. I cannot find a way of blaming that on the weather.

Probably that last cup of coffee before going to sleep.

Beef stew normally does not shake and tremble in the hallway. It's often kind of emotionless. Perhaps in other parts of the country it's semi-sentient and expresses itself, lord only knows what food is like there and I've heard horror stories about chicken rice sludge with processed cheese melted over because the illiterates have banned cookbooks at the local library, but not here. Seldom. Rarely.

Our beef stew is a more literate product.
Often with French pretensions.
Boeuf Bourgignon.

The main difference being wide-spread cultural awareness, woke policies, and a more civilized way of living. We're just better than them. And wine. We have wine.


Food has featured in my dreams a lot lately.
That, I probably can blame on the weather.



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