In the kitchen at
Cooks County, or any commercial kitchen for that matter, ingredients must be labeled when they are stored. That's part health code, part convenience. Kitchens, the great cultural levelers, (perhaps best chronicled by
George Orwell) usually contain language barriers, which can make the entire experience more interesting than any other place on earth, at the moment. Every now and then, I'll go into the walk-in and find "brocoley." Or "Water Crest." Or "gabbage." The best one, which I didn't see but chef told me about was something labeled, "Potato Leek Beets". The contents; rhubarb. It's what someone
hoped the rhubarb would be. And that's okay. I believe in hope. And, I believe in laughing.
Last night, I found "Napa Sugar," the work of another hope peddler. He could not know that today, Napa Sugar is my new phrase embodying a spirit of hope and levity. Falling out of a pose in yoga is my Napa Sugar, my opportunity to laugh and
strive for improvement of my craft. Picking up my drawing pencils is a statement of hope, in this case, exactly like Napa Sugar in that I hope the thing I wrote on looks like what I just tried to make it. I like to take Napa Sugars along Venice Beach, my new home, to soak in all of the fun.
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| Taking a Napa Sugar before I knew what they were called, last weekend. |
What's your Napa Sugar? Go find some this weekend and tell me when you find it!
