As a Korean-American foodie who resides in West Oakland, I’m lucky that there’s a slew of fine eateries not too far from our home all along Telegraph Avenue in Temescal.
Drinking too much alcohol is a big factor in deaths of adults under age 65, CDC researchers say, from obvious risks like vehicle accidents to more subtle effects like higher rates of breast cancer.
And then I thought about my cocktail and how it lead me to my current state of mind. A Death in the Afternoon is made of champagne–the drink most closely associated with celebration, and absinthe– the drink of forgetfulness. I thought it an odd combination; a conflict of emotions in a glass. And that damned drink had the opposite effect on me– it lead to the dredging up of painful memories that I certainly didn’t feel like celebrating. It is a drink that caused me to become acutely aware of what was absent from my life.
I never thought I had an issue with cauliflower. In fact, I’ve always enjoyed it, whether puréed into a soup, roasted to a nutty brown, or dragged through a bit of ranch dressing that always seems to accompany store-bought party crudité platters. Any time it is put in front of me, there is a good chance I’ll eat it.
And yet I’ve never in my life cooked it. At least, not that I can remember.
I’d see it in the market, buy a head of the stuff and bring it home where it would just rot in my refrigerator, not so much forgotten as avoided.
I’ve gotten as far as placing one on my cutting board, but when I took out my 10″ chef’s knife, I paused, changed my mind at the last moment, and put the thing back into cold storage. For some reason, I just didn’t want to cut up a head of cauliflower. I never gave it much thought until a few months ago.
And then I remembered Ben.