Have you ever been stopped in your tracks?
I am not talking about a frightful event, but rather an event that takes your breath away in a good way.
Numerous years ago, while sitting at a bar in Barcelona, Spain, I heard the first strains of "The Sultans of Swing" by Dire Straits. As soon as the song hit my ear drums, I abruptly interrupted the conversation I was having with my friend, and asked the bartender, "What song is this? What band is that?" I had never heard anything quite like it before, and had to know what this new sound was. Later, I found out that my friend, Jim, living in the Midwest U.S. at the time, had stopped his truck along the side of the road when he heard that same song coming through his radio, waiting to find out who the band was.
In the same vein, a couple of years ago, when I was visiting the Musée d'Orsay in Paris with my now-husband, Jim, and my daughter, I entered a room full of Camille Pissaro paintings. As I walked up to the large canvas hanging in the middle of the wall across from me, I stopped in my tracks and started crying. I could not stop sobbing as I took in the painting in front of me. The scene of a woods in autumn with red-tiled roofs poking through the trees instantly took me back to my childhood in Belgium and the woods behind the château where we lived. I could smell the leaves, I could hear them rustle, I could feel the dampness in the air and the mood. That painting encompassed all the feelings of my homeland that I had forgotten. I was crying for joy and for loss.
One night at my bakery, we catered a four-course dinner for a business gathering. The evening was progressing well. As we took each course out and served it, people were happy, chattering, laughing, noisy and having an all around good time. Then we served the dessert: a rich chocolate pudding topped with real whipped cream. Just like that, the noise stopped. No one talked or laughed. You could have heard a pin drop. And, for a few heavenly minutes, I stood, entranced by the sound of nothing more than spoons scraping the bottom of glass bowls. For that short moment, everyone there was so fully present to their food, pulled in by the goodness, that it made them speechless.
Food, art, music and other things that take over our senses are that way. In one fell swoop, they can stop us in our tracks. That sweetness hits home; these textures burst on the tongue; this spice brings it all together. That note lifts me, that painting transports me. I am taken to another level of my human life.
When it comes to food, it’s easy to eat without thinking, while I watch the television or read my emails...But sometimes, the food makes itself known. "Hey, I am here, and I am that good!" My friend, Wilma, laughs about the sounds I make when I eat. I laugh back. If I enjoy my food, and you are sitting with me, you will know! The next time you sit down to eat, be present to your food and let those taste buds free. For me, that's one of the joys of the good life!
Here is the recipe for that chocolate pudding.
10 ounces semi-sweet chocolate chips, high quality
4 large egg yolks
2 large eggs
1/4 c. sugar
14 T. butter
Real whipped cream for garnish
Preheat the oven to 325°. Arrange 6 1 cup canning jars in a large roasting pan.
Melt the chocolate over a very low flame. Remove from heat.
In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks with the whole eggs and sugar until thick and pale, about 4 minutes.
In a medium saucepan, melt the butter. Remove the saucepan from the heat and whisk in the chocolate until smooth. Add slowly to the egg mixture and beat until thoroughly combined.
Measure the pudding into the canning jars, a half a cup in each. Carefully fill the roasting pan with enough hot water to reach halfway up the chocolate in the jars. Bake the puddings for about 20 minutes, or until the edges are firm but the centers are still a bit soft. Remove the ramekins from the water bath and let the puddings cool completely. Serve with whipped cream. And add nuts, if desired. These will keep in the refrigerator for 3 days.
I was just discussing chocolate pudding this past week with my son and daughter-in-law, and how when I made pudding for my son when he was little, I wouldn't cover it so the top would get a delightfully chewy, fudgy consistency to it. We both loved it and would bend over the bowl, spoons in hand and carefully scrape the top off and savor it. This recipe sound delectably rich. I make a much simpler option with milk, cocoa powder, cornstarch, sugar and vanilla, with a chopped chocolate bar and a few tablespoons of butter stirred in at the end. It never fails to make me sigh deeply in delight.
"Food, art, music and other things that take over our senses are that way. In one fell swoop, they can stop us in our tracks. That sweetness hits home; these textures burst on the tongue; this spice brings it all together. That note lifts me, that painting transports me. I am taken to another level of my human life." YES. To dive deeply into the sensuality of life, to make the time and space for these experiences. We lose track of that in our rush and crush world. Thank you for helping me to slow down and savor this morning. <3