It started with soup.
After graduating with a Master’s degree in Creative Writing, I took the only job I was qualified for: washing dishes at my brother’s cafe. In my mind, I was the most adamant and thorough dishwasher.
My second responsibility was making soup in the morning. I only knew how to make one soup, tortilla soup. A soup that my cousin Yolanda taught me how to make. A soup that appears so simple that one might miss it. But the only time the cafe customers missed it is when we didn’t make it. It was in high demand.
Eventually my brother’s cafe closed. I decided to put my haphazard kitchen skills to work. I wanted to learn how to cook.
Soup is one of my top five favorite food groups. Soup makes me pleased to be alive. The world’s evil disappears when I lean over a warm bowl of soup and inhale. True happiness is a bowl of soup. A feeling that can only be rivaled by eating a homemade chocolate chip cookie and drinking a glass of milk. If I were a doctor, I’d prescribe my cookie and milk therapy to alleviate the choke hold of being mortal.
For me, there are certain things that should be savored: reading, eating, conversation and a glass of wine or beer. These things should be done slowly, consciously. I like to take time each day and just breathe. This isn’t a luxury. This is how I find control amid the chaos. I read. I practice. Slowdownandeat is where my two favorite things say, how do you do and shake hands.