26 May 2006
Daily Service
Ringfinger Bloodstain graduated from cooking school and immediately opened what she called the church of nourishment. She invited worshippers from all faiths to come indulge in the sacred power of well prepared food. Within a month Ringfinger’s establishment was packed with diners every night, most of them happy to eat what she served, but unaware they were in a church. They thought they had stumbled onto an eccentrically designed restaurant. A local food reviewer gave Ringfinger an exceptionally good notice. You’ll think you died and went to heaven, he wrote. Everything I ate at this unique establishment is simply divine.
# posted by Mario @ 7:34 AM 
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Fantastic!
Brought to mind a pastry:
Lived in Thessaloniki for a while researching an undergrad thesis on the history of the city-defining Sephardic community largely eradicated by the Nazis in six weeks of 1942. I found, and lived with, many traces and ghosts - marble sidewalks made of Jewish gravestones, Bibliopoleo Molho, a Jewish bookstore with roots going back centuries, remnants of synagogues.
But the most vibrant thing I found, the most useful in my own increasing-by-the-moment-urgency to preserve something of the people and history of that place, were Sephardic-Greek recipes, handed down for hundreds of years.
There is one, for galaktaboureko, that is truly and thoroughly a spiritual experience - the rose petals instantly suggest what the taste buds will discover:
Here is what god tastes like. Here is what love tastes like. Here is what home tastes like. Here is the sweetness which cannot be destroyed.
Brought to mind a pastry:
Lived in Thessaloniki for a while researching an undergrad thesis on the history of the city-defining Sephardic community largely eradicated by the Nazis in six weeks of 1942. I found, and lived with, many traces and ghosts - marble sidewalks made of Jewish gravestones, Bibliopoleo Molho, a Jewish bookstore with roots going back centuries, remnants of synagogues.
But the most vibrant thing I found, the most useful in my own increasing-by-the-moment-urgency to preserve something of the people and history of that place, were Sephardic-Greek recipes, handed down for hundreds of years.
There is one, for galaktaboureko, that is truly and thoroughly a spiritual experience - the rose petals instantly suggest what the taste buds will discover:
Here is what god tastes like. Here is what love tastes like. Here is what home tastes like. Here is the sweetness which cannot be destroyed.
Galaktaboureko. If it tastes as rich as it sounds it must be out of this world. I'm sure Ringfinger has it on her menu.
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