Showing Up

It is 8:45 pm on a Seattle Thursday night, and I have been staring at this blank page for forty-five minutes. I made an appointment with myself to write tonight, and I am both punctual and full of integrity. My father says I am indeed full of it, and I like to call "it" integrity. My very, very dear friend, whom I will call Nell (because that's her name) calls me "tenacious." I know this is her delightful, Southern, classy-lady way of saying I'm just like a dog with a bone. Oh good lord. Did I just compare myself to a dog? Really? Are these the visuals I want to plant in the heads of my readers? Anyhow, I made an appointment with myself, and here I am. I show up.

Oh, sure, I spent half of that time looking up words, including a full twenty minutes spent on the word "braise", which, should, by the way, NOT be confused with saute, which I confess I did until I researched it. In case you were wondering, braise involves searing the food in question (usually meat, mushrooms, or occasionally root vegetables) at a high heat to seal in the juices, and create a carmelized, crusty layer of deliciousness, some of which will stick the pan. We'll get to that in a moment. This process is called the Maillard Process. Just saying that makes me feel prepared to go toe to toe with Julia Child.

After the Maillard Process is complete, you are ready to add your liquid, and eventually reduce that liquid into a sauce by cooking off the water (a sauce reduction). The liquid should have an element of acidity, such as balsamic vinegar, tomatoes, lemons or ideally, wine. The acid works on the carmelized sugars to deglaze the pan. At the end, to finish the sauce and round out the mouth-feel, a bit of butter or cream is added. The acid breaks down the milk solids to make it smooth. It's a complex, delicious dance of organic chemistry that makes it all work, and I feel a better person for being clear on the exact difference between braise, saute, and simmer. I mean, it comes up. I wouldn't want to confuse one with the other, because let's face it, that would just be embarrassing.

If I'd had any sense tonight, I would have taken my laptop down the street to a coffee shop to write, or maybe a restaurant or happy hour. I would have encouraged strangers to tell me their stories, so I could break them down and put them together into something heroic. I would have sipped a Ginger Martini instead of hot ginger tea, tears of laughter would have been dabbed with monogrammed handkerchiefs instead of Puffs Plus, all the men would have looked like Gabriel Byrne and at no point would I have inadvertently written myself into a word corner by comparing myself to a dog.

These are the things I do, at 8:45 pm on a Thursday night in Seattle.

It ain't pretty. But at least I showed up, and stories are written by those who show up.