written August 23, 2012

It was the venerable Eleanor Roosevelt who once said, “If life were predictable it would cease to be life, and without flavor.”  Avoiding a pun involving relish, I entirely agree.  However much we may shun the trappings of technology, and whatever off-the-cuff misdirection is invented to explain our coupling, it was a pushy website I have to thank for an out-of-the-blue email.  “Hey!” was a common enough peel, but the fruits inside, asking about accents and Vietnamese, made it a message with vim.

This morning I too was the Eggman, forgoing a routine raspberry breakfast bar for a proper morning meal.  In went the remnants of orange and red peppers, the remaining basil and bit of brie.  In a flight, I reached for the curry paste, and so committed to experimentation, went to the pantry for pesto.  And it was amazing.  I never would have had come across such a concoction on my own, I am sure of it.

My life has been similarly infused with your zest, and while our individual ingredients- perhaps confounding and quirky to the Outside- are for discerning connoisseurs, they make a terrific bouquet together.  Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin described it best: “The number of flavors is infinite for every soulable body has a flavor, like no other.”