Cooking Romance

Ah what the heck. I'm not exactly much of a "romantic", and I wouldn't classify myself as one if it's based on the stereotypical image of lalala doobeedoo waiting for prince charming on his white horse, petals of red roses, candles, bubble baths, chocolates and champagne (although I wouldn't object to chocolates and champagne).

However I do find a lot of inspiration in the people I have strong feelings for. A lot of cooking inspiration I mean. What I'm trying to say is that people I "love" give me kitchen inspiration. It's like creating an edible reincarnation of that one person you have strong feelings for. Is this making any sense? Maybe I should use some examples.

These cherries for instance:

When I made these, I was adding emotional tags and adjectives to each ingredient. Here's my thought process:

Cherries: red (duh!) (red for passion and love though), juicy (mmm), sensual...
Dark chocolate: aphrodisiac, smooth, velvety, rich, deep...
Hot pepper: spicy (ouh la la)
But dark chocolat + hot pepper = a spicy flaming hot aphrodisiac!
Sesame seeds: crunchy (and maybe unconsciously the seeds are a reminder of something else...hint hint) (man do I have a dirty mind!)

When eating these divine cherries, the result is interesting as the different tastes are revealed quite seperately, at different moments...which is what I loved the most, and which is why I will definately make these again.

Another one of my cooking romances was this cake I baked not too long ago. I thought the cherries were maybe a bit too "girly" and not enough to fill a hungry man's stomach... as a rich cake would.

What would go into the cake though was a love potion of spices: cinammon, nutmeg and ginger. Some cherries for some red-love colour and juiciness, and loads of melted chocolate to finish off.

When the batter was ready, I closed my eyes and approached to take a sniff and let it's alluring scent run to my brain and take me away to a land of imagination...passion..and fantasy. These thoughts lasted for a couple of seconds, when I knocked back into reality to remember that the cake wasn't done until I actually baked it.

And so the batter went into the mould, with it's dark curves and curls, waiting to enter the hot oven where it's enticing ingredients could live a moment of passion in the (oven's) heat of the action.

30 minutes later...

My cake was ready, warm in my hands and exuding plenty of love and tenderness. I had my first bite before it cooled down, and accompanied it with some fresh cream. It's taste was gentle, yet with personality, torrid and sentimental... and with every bite I remembered the person who had inspired me to bake this cake in the first place...

P.S: Next time, I plan to pull out the ginger from the cake, and use it in the cream instead!