fondue

Life is long and strange. Professionally I intersect where medicine meets crisis, and then I go back home to recover in the kitchen, usually while stirring onions, or smearing funky cheeses on crackers.  I can be quiet there over the stove, meditative. The steak doesn't cook better if I think about it more.

  I'm newly living in Africa,  and it's like Alice Through the Looking Glass with respect to food. Water purity is non-existent,  and in many places so is electricity.  So when I'm out for a walk in the morning and I see ropes of handmade sausages?  The calculations run something like: I wonder how many hours ago that was made?  

  In supermarkets there are gorgeous fish I don't know - like eel - and cuts of meat I'm unfamiliar with....a tiny bird carcass I thought might be pigeon turned out to be quail, so it's still confusing.  In a good way.