Lucy and I are hungry girls. We love our food at all times of the day! I am not stingy about Lucy’s treats because I empathise with her – I love my treats too! Fortunately for us both, we are well fed, despite our straitened circumstances.
This morning, as I cooked our weekly chicken, with my Kitchen Goddess keeping me company in the kitchen, attentive to my every move – Lucy and I share a chicken once a week – I thought about the semiotics of comestibles.
Our friend Rick, the benevolent Food Panda, comes bearing edible gifts almost every week. Yesterday, his one unexceptional looking carrier bag contained a burst of colourful comestibles! I had asked for a bunch or two of Asian greens, but lo and behold, there were four bunches of the stuff and a comely head of broccoli thrown in for good measure! Tiramisu, half of which I quite quickly polished off at tea time; a packet of ham, which I am contemplating (what is the best of the best ham sandwich combination?); a box of brie, already half eaten; and a box of water biscuits to accompany the cheesely luxury. Gastronomic Grandeur!
Another friend, Rodrigo, recently dropped by with beautiful presents, which he carried all the way from his super holiday in Spain and Portugal. My talented friend has an eye for little details and beautiful things, being himself a master at the art of floral arrangement. That he thinks of me with a care and consideration is evident in his gifts. It puts me to shame, and I am almost embarrassed that my own sparse giftings to him are miserably poor and bedraggled in comparison. All the more inspiration to up the ante, Bunny!
I am not a chocoholic, and since coming to Sydney, I have found a sad paucity of high quality chocolate – of course, they do exist, but at such prices that put them far out of my reach. Needless to say, I demolished the entire box with great relish, in one sitting. It most definitely calmed my troubled soul during that mini emotional tsunami the other day, helping me face with equanimity the ultimate betrayal of a very old and trusted friend. Yes, yes, the chocolate itself contained ‘happy stuff’ for the addled brain of mine, but no, I am not referring to that, really. For me, it was once again the encapsulated meaning. Of course, the quality of the chocolate boosted levels immensely!
Why the fuss about simple nosh? Yes, I hail from the foodly high life, where I could eat whatever I fancied, wherever my mind happened to wander, and I must admit, I’d never had to go without any manner of victuals that I desired.
But that was then. when I enjoyed lavishness inside the golden cage of slavery.
This is now. A vast new domain, one in which a chicken needs to be carefully considered and a bunch of vegetables studiously researched.
Yet, what bliss! Inside this little cocoon of support and sincere attention to esteem, no words need to be uttered. No declarations of how much they “care” for me, how much they have sacrificed on my behalf, how much I owe them, no “after all I have done for you…” rants. Just soft, gentle, clemency embedded inside little gestures of goodwill.
Those who have never been subjugated, never been betrayed by artful promises, never been abused by prolonged emotional and mental oppression until one loses all sense of Self, you would not understand. It is such a relief and release, to receive Grace. And what a wonderful encompassing affirmation of my Parallel Embodiment.
But no, Lucy, you still may not have any of my french fries!