Sunday, August 13, 2006

Literary Meme

Miss Eagle has tagged me with a couple book-related questions:

Name one book that wracked you with sobs
Hmmm...this is tough because (as I've said many times) I'll cry at a Pepsi commercial. Sobs though? I am more often in a fit of note taking or inspiration. Of course any book that mentions harm to an animal will have me in sobs. I try to stay away from those.

Is there one book you wish had never been written?
We all have different tastes, and I would certainly never condone censorship nor book burning. Then again, there's that Anne Coulter book....

Is there one book you're currently reading?
I usually read several books at one time. Right now I'm reading a book about pirates. I'm having a tough time making time to read it, because it's more text book than fun.

Any one book you've been meaning to read?
A friend lent me Arabian Nights several months ago, and I still need to get to that. I have yet to read classic children's tales like Huck Finn and Treasure Island either. But I want to.


Friday, August 04, 2006

Falling Cloudberries

I have started reading cookbooks as one would read a novel, except the pages are littered with Post-it flags, notes, and wishes of one day making the wonderful concoctions within. I read about "Falling Cloudberries," by Tessa Kiros, on one of my favorite cooking sites, 101 Cookbooks, but had a heck of a time getting ahold of a copy (it is available in the UK and Australia. I finally purchased a copy off ebay). I love cookbooks with snippets of family history. This author has a Finnish mother and Greek father, so her food influences are quite varied. I love her words:

"Greece is magnetic, they say. Once you have stepped on the Greek ground it's hard to shake yourself free. Myth has it that it's because your feet become stuck in the rich honey coating this country. It's the only place where people have always wished me a good week, month, day, summer, winter, life, work...and a birthday wish to grow old with white hair."

"The smell that hit you upon arrival in Nicosia was those jasmine bushes flanking the front door. Their syrupy delicate fragrance waltzed smoothly with the summer night heat. We would lie on the marble floors, soothing our bodies, hoping that some cooler air would arrive from somewhere. Still now, when I smell jasmine at night, I feel I could embrace the moon."

"Pappou was quiet; he had integrity and no flashness about him. He always wore a perfectly ironed shirt, gilet in winter, polished shoes and had his hair slicked back with the special cream he ordered from Italy. He never demanded acknowledgement, but dashed around quietly with the energy of milk just at that rolling boil."

"There are some things that don't change much. I find the smell of a dish, or the way a certain spice is crushed, or just a quick look at the way something has been put on a plate, can pull me back to another place and time. I love those memories that seem so far away, yet you can hold them and carry them with you, even forget them, and then, with a single taste or hint or a smell, be chaperoned back to a beautiful moment."

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