Can you hear me…, Selma?
If I tell you I made your Ricotta and Chive Cakes? And that I thought they were, borrowing your description, so, so delicious?
Can you hear me, if I tell you I bought some semolina flour, something I’ve never used before, because I wanted to make your Saffron Semolina Cake?
That the cake captured my inner childhood obsession with everything yellow? Always my favorite color, my mom told me. Everything I owned was colored yellow to distinguish them from my siblings’.
Can you hear me, if I tell you I bought a bench scraper, so I can start making bread with the sourdough starter you so generously shared with me?
I bought it because I wanted to make sure I use precious Twinkle, the name you bestowed on your starter, properly, and that there should be no mistake.
Can you hear me, if I tell you I’ve decided to call my own starter, once I generate it, using yours, Twinkle 2.0?
Can you hear me, if I tell you I have bought seeds of and planted Romanesco broccoli? Because I wanted to make your Romanesco Fritters but couldn’t find Romanesco. And besides, you introduced me to a vegetable I never tried before and I felt the need to find out. Except the slugs and a bunny or possibly a groundhog loved the little plants and feasted on them. One survived. And it’s now being guarded to ensure further growth.
Can you hear me, if I tell you that I was on the verge of asking you to collaborate on a blogging project? And somehow I knew you would have said yes to it, not because of the merits of the project, but because you were the most gracious and generous blogger friend I have ever virtually met.
Can you hear me, if I tell you that I am now and always will be reading the stories you’ve written so expressively on your blog? That they become my source of comfort and inspiration?
Can you, Selma? Can you hear me?