After a 16.5 hour work day and then a beautiful day off in Toronto I feel exhilarated to cook, to eat, to live. Spending my Sunday in Chinatown, the windows steaming up with broth from hot pots. Tangy and floral dried lily flowers floating around. Dumplings bursting forth with steam and leeks. Hands digging into black baskets of herbs and greens.
I crave stock and broth as if it’s something sacred. Scented with aromatics and the minerals of bones with fat floating around on top. It feels like the perfect base for any meal: the essence of everything boiling away, ready for creation.
I know that this is what I want to do with my life: work, travel, eat, taste, cook and share. To taste the perfect broth and attempt to make the perfect broth. To have it all shattered when I wander into some new place and eat something I couldn’t have even dreamed about. Chasing and tasting the impossible.
“I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit. There is always a yearning to achieve more. I’ll continue to climb, trying to reach the top, but no one knows where the top is. ” -Jiro Ono: Jiro Dreams of Sushi