please, don't wake me

To say I hate dreaming would be quite an understatement. I absolutely detest waking to a head full of nonsense, confusion, or occasionally twisted fear. I make no sense of most of my dreams, except the ones which involve searching for toilets. Those make sense some nights around four am.

I've had only one recurring dream and would welcome it again with open arms tucked under my pillow. In it, both times I was walking through a European town or a small section of such a city, looking for a specific, very quaint bakery where I had been before; perhaps a boulangerie or a panetteria. The structure as I recalled, sat on the left side of a circular dead end, and when you entered you were enveloped by the overwhelmingly homey sight and smell. It was a room full of the toasty warmth from the shades of brown: wood floors, wood tables & chairs, wood shelves, wood burning ovens, golden loaves... The details get cloudy at this point in the dream, but there might have been a faint tinkling bell with each opening of the door. As much as I have tried, I've never mustered up the dream again.

This week I had another delicious culinary dream. It was of Panettone.  I am, obviously, a fan.

W might weigh in here and call me out, for though I am devoted to the holiday breads themselves, I am drawn to them equally by their packaging. I rarely buy one in a box, preferring the awkwardly wrapped, thick, gloriously patterned papers. I consider them art to the extent that there is one sitting atop an etagere, still, after almost a decade. 

My dream was rather like a Panettone Flea Market with vendor tables so tightly situated that they appeared as one long, continuous, communal table. End to end they took up only a portion of a single block's sidewalk. Each table's cloth covering was colorful as if the row of tables were a patchwork quilt. Vendors were selling different Panettones and I was up for sampling them all.

There was a classic with dried fruits, a classic with dried fruits & nuts. Some had cream fillings like pistachio or hazelnut. There was a caramel cream which I remember so well and find amazing that it didn't wake me. Chocolate offerings were of dark rich bread or classically plain with dark chocolate chips, and both came with or without orange. I vaguely remember something about strawberry...

I woke not having made it to the end of the row, taking that as a sign to perhaps pursue while awake. Too much to yet taste! 

There are two places in Dallas where I shop Panettones. Jimmy's Food Store always. Always. Christmas and Easter of every year, wrapped and tied up with ribbons, they are stacked at the entrance. It is for me a sacred tradition and the place I will return to soon; last visit the breads were just beginning to arrive. Eataly will be second, a return visit for I recently got a glimpse of what I believe are all of their offerings. I've eyes set on one type new to me, and although it is boxed, and the box not at all exciting, the glaze of chocolate with a scattering of nuts on top, is tempting to this purist.

So, bedtime prayers that perhaps the choice will come to me in my second recurring dream. It truly was a heavenly one.

the sweetest souls

 Day of the Dead   Día de los Muertos   Todos Los SantosAll Souls’ Day   Dia de Finados   Festival de Barriletes Gigantes...

In many languages and around the world, there is a remembrance day for loved ones deceased.  At its simplest there is lighting of candles, visits to cemeteries, food offerings. The occasion may be made more lavish by preparing elaborate altars, dressing in costume, hosting parties, or even parades. We try to express our remembrances, be it intimately or outrageously.

We miss them. We loved them. On the Day of the Dead we celebrate these lives well lived.

There is for me, no place more sacred than the dining table. Abundant wine, and great food ever present, it is the gathering spot which nourishes body and soul. The table requires no words be spoken yet it hears many: blessings, toasts, grievances, regrets, secrets, arguments, wooings, promises…

It can be a healing haven for the vulnerable, the grieving, the exhausted, and as easily a most sought after seat for hours of anticipated joy and laughter. The dining table is a universal platform of and for the human condition; shared with those while living and celebrating those who have passed.  

This is my such a table.