I also crave bread. A good artisan-crafted rustic loaf that I can break off in chunks to dip into oil. This winter, I indulged in cranberry-walnut bread – the yeasted kind – more savory than sweet, and, dipped it in sesame oil – the cold-pressed, unrefined, organic oil that releases the natural sweetness of the seed. It’s scrumptious, but, on the cold, damp days when the sky is the color of mayonnaise, I tend to eat without paying attention to quantity. Before I know it, I’ve eaten half of a loaf. And although I don’t gain weight easily, this overconsumption may have future consequences.
I’m thinking of Grain Brain . . . the book in which the research connects wheat flour with the onset of Alzheimer’s. It’s almost sad that I know about this study because the simple joys of eating and hanging out in the kitchen on a wintry day have been tainted now. Nostalgia isn’t necessarily the healthiest indulgence either, but, sometimes the re-creation of one’s early hearth-and-home life helps to sooth the soul. Helps it to transition to the next moment of living. But, if I’m also fretting about its connection to physical ailments, then what joy is left for the present tense?
My conclusion: Too much science is unhealthy if it robs the heart of joy!
And speaking of hearts, I’ve noticed that I begin to crave a roadtrip when Valentine’s Day is just around the bend. I don’t pine for chocolate or hearts or roses (although a single yellow bud or a bouquet of whites would melt my heart at any moment). No, I have some internal compass that directs me toward the highway. Toward a bouquet of white lines that mysteriously soothes my soul and gifts me with a new perspective – a bit of mid-winter therapy.
I’ve pondered this yearning over the years and really haven’t come to a conclusion, which I love because it allows mystery to reign.