It is the summer of small pieces of food. Last night, as we chopped roasted vegetables and mixed them into little kernels of bulgur along with a chopped tomato vinaigrette, I thought the cutting board was getting a healthy workout.
Today, as I strip the corn cob of its kernels and chop tomato and onion and garlic and who knows what else, I’m thinking chopping is become as frequent an exercise as riding a bicycle. The summer of chopping and pedaling.
Did you ever notice that small pieces – slices, morsels, kernels – invariably taste better than large chunks of anything?
It is also the summer of chocolate covered raisins. And granola and berries. And fragments of a dream where I link together all the unmatched pieces of life’s puzzle and come out with a sensible, finished whole.
[On a more prosaic note, it is also the summer of market flowers.]