Spicy

I love spices. Lots of spices. Especially HOT spices. But I hardly ever use them...

Because, you see, my husband and daughter like mild food. Really mild. No spices. No pepper, even the boring black kind that comes in shakers along with salt. No spices.

Sigh.

So, yeah, my husband liked the creamed chicken on home-made biscuits. He said it was a nice, comforting food on a cold, damp day.

But then, half-way through, he said, “I taste something spicy. What spices did you put in it?”

“Only a few bits of chive from our garden,” I replied, “And the Florida Sunshine Sea Salt. That has a few flavorings in it, but I actually think they’re more for color than flavor...”

Maybe, just maybe, it’s a sort of metaphysical thing.

Maybe, just maybe, because it is I who make the food (I who love and long for spicy flavor) the food is spicy. My spicy longings, my spicy thoughts alone add flavor to the food.

Yes, I think that’s it.
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