Every little thing adds a flavor. Every ingredient does something. Sometimes the effect is subtle and hard to pinpoint - but it's there. That extra pinch of spice, or teaspoon of oil are all there for a purpose; all fill some space that makes the everything hold together in a certain way.
You can always tell something's missing when it's forgotten.
I believe in spice. I believe in adding flavor and texture. But I wonder sometimes if I get too caught up in it. I wonder if sometimes I don't know when to quit. I get so locked in sometimes to getting the little things fixed up just right that the big ideas sometimes pass by unnoticed. They say that heaven is in the details, but isn't that heaven a distinction, a finery that gains beauty by being different than the norm? Doesn't the norm have to exist in order for the anomaly to separate itself?
My favorite Chinese takeout dish is General Tso's Chicken. I swear, I could eat that stuff all day. But the thing is, I haven't found the place here in town that gets it right yet. To me, the best General Tso's is a perfect mix of sweetness and heat. The sauce needs to feel like honey but taste like hot peppers. But no matter where I go in town to get it, it's like they can only seem to figure out half the equation. Either it's tangy without sweet, or sugary without kick. I'll eat it anyways, but it's like I'm always wanting for more. And we don't get Chinese takeout all that often, so for me to find flaw in what amounts to a special meal seems kinda silly...
But I know how I want it to taste.
I know the way I want to lick my fingers.
I know the way I want to feel.
So I keep searching.
But the weird thing is, all the Chinese restaurants in town look exactly the same. Sure, they all have different names - but they all seem to have the same picture menus on the the wall. Every place has the same artwork in the waiting area, the same style of tables and chairs. They even have the same little white plastic drawer organizers filled with spoons and packages of soy sauce. Every place I go to pick up food from seems to have a line of people in it waiting for their brown paper bag to be stapled shut and handed to them by the pretty girl who works the phones and checks lines the map with her index finger.
It's the same place. The same surroundings. The same recipie.
Yet here I am, looking for them to do something differently. Here I am, trying to dig detail out of marrow.
Once I find the place that makes the killer Tso I'm gonna stick with it. That's the plan. That's the reason. That's why I'll drive all over town even when there's a place that does takeout less than a mile from my house. They make General Tso's. I've had their General Tso's. It's okay
...but it's not it, you know?
You can always tell something's missing when it's forgotten.
I believe in spice. I believe in adding flavor and texture. But I wonder sometimes if I get too caught up in it. I wonder if sometimes I don't know when to quit. I get so locked in sometimes to getting the little things fixed up just right that the big ideas sometimes pass by unnoticed. They say that heaven is in the details, but isn't that heaven a distinction, a finery that gains beauty by being different than the norm? Doesn't the norm have to exist in order for the anomaly to separate itself?
My favorite Chinese takeout dish is General Tso's Chicken. I swear, I could eat that stuff all day. But the thing is, I haven't found the place here in town that gets it right yet. To me, the best General Tso's is a perfect mix of sweetness and heat. The sauce needs to feel like honey but taste like hot peppers. But no matter where I go in town to get it, it's like they can only seem to figure out half the equation. Either it's tangy without sweet, or sugary without kick. I'll eat it anyways, but it's like I'm always wanting for more. And we don't get Chinese takeout all that often, so for me to find flaw in what amounts to a special meal seems kinda silly...
But I know how I want it to taste.
I know the way I want to lick my fingers.
I know the way I want to feel.
So I keep searching.
But the weird thing is, all the Chinese restaurants in town look exactly the same. Sure, they all have different names - but they all seem to have the same picture menus on the the wall. Every place has the same artwork in the waiting area, the same style of tables and chairs. They even have the same little white plastic drawer organizers filled with spoons and packages of soy sauce. Every place I go to pick up food from seems to have a line of people in it waiting for their brown paper bag to be stapled shut and handed to them by the pretty girl who works the phones and checks lines the map with her index finger.
It's the same place. The same surroundings. The same recipie.
Yet here I am, looking for them to do something differently. Here I am, trying to dig detail out of marrow.
Once I find the place that makes the killer Tso I'm gonna stick with it. That's the plan. That's the reason. That's why I'll drive all over town even when there's a place that does takeout less than a mile from my house. They make General Tso's. I've had their General Tso's. It's okay
...but it's not it, you know?