When I am creating—really enmeshed in the process—food is the last thing on my mind. I know it's cliché. I start my studio mornings with strong coffee, then move on to water and herbal teas. I'm not the neatest painter, so I end up with oils all over my hands, often on my face if I happen to brush a stray hair away. These paint-soiled hands should be nowhere near anything that goes into my mouth. If I stop to eat, I have to scrub down my hands several times to remove all traces of lead and other heavy metals. More importantly, eating means interrupting whatever flow I might be riding. It doesn't seem worth all the trouble.
I know. This is coming from someone who thinks about her meals days in advance. Someone who started a food blog.
A few weeks ago, in the middle of a creative spurt, I discovered that I had no fruits or vegetables in the house. ZERO PRODUCE. For me, this is a state of emergency. There was also no hummus, no bread, no cheese. The refrigerator was pretty bare. In the cupboards, I found crackers, dark chocolate, peanuts and almonds. I felt like a bachelor (sorry, boys.) Actually, I felt like I had failed on basic functions of daily living.
So, this preamble is to introduce a food-related post. I made homemade pasta for some friends and to carbo-load before a half-marathon. (Is carbo-loading before endurance exercise obsolete?) I cranked the dough through my pasta machine to make sheets for folded-over lasagnas. The filling was simple: herbed ricotta, sauteed spinach studded with pine nuts and raisins. A simple marinara was laid down on bottom and spooned over the top. Finally, fat rounds of fresh mozzarella finished the dish.It felt good to be feeding myself, in a real way, again.
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