And so it begins, on a Saturday in Seattle. A fall day so beautiful, so ruddy ripe, that it gives me a queer little ache somewhere just under my ribcage. The sky is blue, blue, a thousand times blue. The sun shines its slanty golden best, the leaves are turning, and the temperature is perfect–just right for a pair of comfy jeans and a t-shirt, but no socks yet; and while the need for a sweater lurks somewhere just around the corner, it’s not here yet, thank goodness, not today.
I get a text from my friend Rob: “Are you writing today? I’ll bring some crock-pot pot roast if you are.”
Rob and I have a long-standing Saturday afternoon appointment to write together in a coffee shop. He arrives shortly after I do, and hands over a hefty container of food.
“It’s just a pot roast, with a lot of mushrooms, and some Dutch fingerling potatoes,” he says casually. “I made more than I can eat.” Oh the joys of single friends who cook! And in spite of his offhand presentation, I know that anything he made will be simply delicious.
I open my purse and dig out three warm, ripe tomatoes. “Here, I picked these for you on my way out the door.”
And what more fitting beginning for this food blogging adventure? Because after all, good food is about good ingredients, well-prepared and joyously shared. And it’s also about context, and community, and friendship.