Keep it simple. Bowls of heaven.
A long wait. Two hours long.
Watch a show. Watch two shows.
Smell from oven. Sweet and crunchy.
Bowls from Arkansas. Sweet terra cotta. Two single servings. Oven proof bowls. Soft white glaze. Gray floral swirls.
I boiled milk. Added vanilla, cardamom. A bay leaf. A butter pat. Poured over rice. Some refined sugar. Baked at 350°F. Two long hours.
I’m my mother. Cooking without recipes. It took time. To cook blind.
I wait patiently. Peek only once. Some aren’t forgiving. Don’t peek soufflé.
I watch shows. The Diplomat episode. John Mulaney stand-up.
Watching not peeking. Watching and waiting. Two long hours. Long, slow hours.
The timer chimes.
More waiting, cooling. Cooling and resting.
Square French bowl. Small painted flowers. Blue clover flowers. Perfect red dots.
Simple sterling spoon. Not heavy, well-balanced. Scoops browned top.
Big jam dollop. Apricot replaces fig. What’s on hand. Orange, tart sweetness. Smothers arborio rice.
Bite by bite. Time stands still. Thanks rice pudding.
Here’s to delicious moments!
Warmly,
Tiffany
<3
I love this cooking poem