Today was the day. Today was the day I spent all afternoon in my kitchen, blissfully free in bare feet and with the living room window open, cool air kissing around my legs as my long skirt swished and moved.
Today spring was like a voice in my head, the one that talks with a rhythm spun out on gypsy jazz, all bouncy nonsense and playful lisps.
Spring and autumn are my most sensually extravagant times. In the fall I go mad for plums and the first of the root vegetables. All of my body seems to gravitate to my hips and legs, those pillars that are heavy on the earth, intimate with its lumbering ways. But in the spring I’m all toes and fingers and buzzing brain. When that sun finally finds its way into me I am like a newborn thing, fresh and wide open to every passing scent and sight.
Yesterday I shopped. I bought bright things: a pink shirt, a purple one, one with red roses, a blue bra, a little white sweater. The air was cool but the sun was out and as warm as I have felt it in forever, so I swung my shopping bags and sashayed from store to store. Today I dyed my hair a little blonder, looked in the mirror to see my blue eyes glow just a little brighter.
Tomorrow my beloved visits and I wanted to prepare something that exudes my current heightened state of deliciousness. A collaboration of many, many good things. So I have cooked up a traditional lasagne, made the rich tomato sauce, simmered it long and slow with garlic, onions, carrot, torn pieces of salty prosciutto, a good dash of white wine and a massive handful of fresh, soft, fragrant basil. The ragu alone took three steps and plenty of cooking, and when it was finished I alternated between squeals of excitement and groans of pleasure. Oh, it is good.
The lasagne waits to be baked, gorgeous strips of mozzarella and the rest of the prosciutto tossed around atop the creamy white sauce that covers the pasta. Forty minutes in the oven and if the aroma does not seduce my Scotsman, then my kitchen witch days are numbered.
For dessert I have made mousse chocolat, a Green and Black’s dark chocolate wonder with a slosh of French brandy. For now they also sit in the fridge, bittersweet clouds drawn down from their formations and piled into wine glasses.