Monday, December 21, 2009

Aging & Eating

How is it that with aging comes the brittleness of bones and yet also the affection for the hardness of the cookie?   Is there a ying-yang flow of balance happening?  My inner is getting breakable so my intake has to be of a non-breakable sort?
This question comes up for pondering each end of year holiday season.  As cookies are brought in by fellow employees or gifted to us by some vendors, I find my fingers rove to the piles my eyes lock on.  The double-baked concreteness of a biscotti cookie now holds pre-eminent interest while the soft stuff and the filled pile of baked goods are only glanced at.  The latter are, like beautiful young waifs, pleasing to the eye but they hold no crunch, no chewability to gnaw on.  The biscotti are a treasure-trove of life's hard experiences to be enjoyed in little nips, followed by a chewing and mulling over.  To the biscotti you must bring your own liquid, coffee, tea ,or your mouth's juices so you can wear down time's hardening of things gone past.  The madeleine?  A young man's cookie, malleable and without the hard inner core of substance.   It is the elemental biscotti, flour, eggs, water (o.k. an almond or two for additional mulling over), that serves le penseur best.   Time and heat.  Twice.  That's what life, aging, and cookies are all about.

O.K., perhaps a touch of chocolate.  Bitter chocolate to be sure; I am, after all, receding to the Bitter Valley of my years.


"Time and heat" -- no kidding, especially in the "time" department. Biscotti are such a pain to make, what with the multiple bakings, that I leave the task to my lovely wife. To very happy results, I should add. But for now I'll still indulge in the young(er) man's delight: homemade poppycock.
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