I have some weird aversion to cooking when I’m in Vancouver – it’s like I forget my personality and become unnerved by food. I don’t know where to shop or what to buy and what people will like. The morning I was due to cook this meal – ‘this meal’ being completely undefined at this point – I was sitting outside, feeling an undue amount of stress and anxiety and pressure on cooking the perfect meal that I was sure I could not deliver. Do I even know how to cook? I ended up at a grocery store and saw the peaches. And the heirloom tomatoes. Than the English peas. And the asparagus. Risi e bisi. Peaches, tomatoes, feta, basil, mint. A rocket salad. I got over my earlier histrionics and settled back into my personality: the host, the caretaker, the mother. The food wasn’t perfect – it never is – but everything else: the rooftop, the herb garden, the sunset, the people, the wine, the colours. That was pretty perfect.
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