Oddities and Obsessions

On the way back to the car after some lunchtime phở, we stepped into a bird store to say a quick what’s up to the caged canaries and parrots. In the middle of the store, I sneezed and my temporary front tooth flew onto the floor. I picked up the tooth, shrugged at the puzzled proprietors and parrots, and drove to my dentist to have it reattached.

The dentist said this might happen. Cautioned me not to eat anything sticky or chewy. I gazed longingly at caramel apples at Farmer’s Market last week, and had to eat my grilled cheese from Phil’s with a fork and knife. That’s the result of deciding to replace my cracked front tooth with a porcelain crown, and having this temporary plastic piece stand in while the crown’s manufactured. It’s no fun.

I’m used to eating anything I want. Cutlery is never a concern. And now, for three weeks, I’m relegated to eating only that which can be cut into small pieces. I feel like a toddler getting his pizza slice diced into manageable bites. Child’s play.

The bright, vegetal flavor of matcha is reminiscent of the satisfyingly rich, bitter notes of pure dark chocolate. Both of which are an acquired taste. Over time, my taste buds began to crave the grassy notes of the finley milled Japanese green tea powder.

Considering that it's an expensive treat, I've kept it out of my cookies, cake and bread batters (which often require a bit too much then I'd like to spare) and have reserved it for a vanilla rose marshmallow latte, salad dressing & orange blossom tapioca.

As the snow fell like confectioners sugar from the sky yesterday (dusting the ground with glittering flakes), I was inspired to make my way to the stove and whip up a batch of whole wheat pancakes for lunch. I quickly realized that I was out of syrup and thought that a touch of powdered sugar would do the trick.

And then the jar of matcha whispered my name. Just like that I found myself sprinkling delicate sugar from one hand and matcha with the other onto the warm pancake (some powder melting into the pancake to deeply flavor the whole wheat and other bits lingering on top for color).

"Everyone needs a tagline. And I guess yours is cappuccino?"

That's what my boss said to me as I pulled out my cappuccino shirt and laughed about my recent purchase.

"You really do love it, don't you?" She added.

Still laughing I told her that I had also created business cards with a cappuccino image on them.

"It really is your tagline."

And then another co-worker chimed in.

"Why do you love it so much?"

That answer is easy. But it requires a story: It starts with falling in love with coffee.

A few years ago my friend Janet said to me “I’m saying yes, yes to everything.”

I thought, wow, Kimberly just said the same thing to me a few months before. She said, “Fredde, I’m saying yes to everything, every single new opportunity, it’s yes.” I didn’t want to be left behind — I prefer no – so I tried to get out of my comfort zone and sometimes, but not all the time, I was going to say “Yes!”

So what did I do? Nothing. Pretty much nothing. But I did say yes when Janet asked if I wanted to join her writing workshop in St. Tropez. That also meant getting to St. Tropez, which was a whole big schlep. My husband and I were planning a trip anyway so we arranged it around this workshop. I headed out alone to Paris, so I could acclimate to the time change. Two days and several croissants later I found my way to the train station. I had been thinking I should buy that ticket ahead of time, but Janet said it would be no problem getting one. Guess what? I was right and was stuck at the station for hours waiting for the next train. Still, I flowed with it, lost a favorite jacket carting my luggage in and out of bathrooms while I waited. But I finally made it, several hours late — and I might finally be over my romantic fantasy about train travel.