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The Delicious Miss Dale

The-delicious-miss-dahl-001

 

 

For a person that isn't passionate about food, this little lady deserves a bow. I never could understand how people found pleasure in food; to me it was just a way to survive. One day while flipping through channels I ended up at an Arabian food channel called "Fatafeat". “The Delicious Miss Dale" was being broadcasted and to my surprise that young cook made me a dreamer of the English Isle. The romantic setting where she sits in an English country side cottage made me yearn for the serenity that she portrays. All her recipes are based on her grandmother's old cooking which manifest the history behind each ingredient she pours in her simple yet lavishly looking recipes. She uses her feminism to explain the love and emotions in her method of cooking. She talks slowly with her British accent, a dreamer I might call her. I enjoy the scenery that she portrays behind each cooking session. The episode I watched was based on a romantic dinner for two and it was generous with seafood, she reflected the cool grotesque English coast in each recipe. After finishing an episode she would sit down in her emerald green garden reading parts of a romantic book where you become a prisoner of her poise and calmness. She made me understand the magic that lurks behind each aspect of food. I became a fantasist, I went back to my papers and I wrote one of my unfinished thoughts after I became selfishly captivated with my own inner love for Europe through a simple task called “Cooking”. I wrote this: (the draft)

My Dearest Love,

With your flight I have felt gloomy.

I never acknowledged how cold the streets can devour me

Your made me a dreamer

A seeker of the magic that lies in the city of the coast

I never felt so suffocated for my passion is smothering me

I yearn for the tender touch

The voice that holds all my imperfections with grace

I thrive for the magic of Venice and the Holiness of Rome

Yet as far as I could be for I never left the sea… Your essence intertwined with my soul

 I was cocooned with happiness… That pure pain that struck each vein in my frail temple

A new day brought along a new expectation and the agony of your absence flourished.

I look upon the balcony for the horizon above joins.

The burden jumbled my head… It became my hindrance

Your next voyage is awaited with despair my blaze

And as a helpless romantic I hold our token till your arrival

*To be Continued* 

 

To Posterous, Love Metalab