The pleasure in something cooked right, just the small and
strangely infinite pleasure to be had from seeing, just witnessing, a tray of
freshly baked biscuits. Like I had just completed the Parthenon, or carved
Jefferson into a rockface, or maybe the contentment, felt in the very sinews,
of the bear when he digs a salmon out of the water with his paw. Mightily
healing, deeply, and what else could we have come here for, except to sense
these tiny victories. Not wars and civil ructions, but the saving grace of a
Hollandaise sauce that has escaped all possibilities of a culinary disaster and
is being spread like a yellow prayer on a plump cod steak – victoriously.
From On Canaan’s Side by Sebastian Barry
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