four – belated but not forgotten

Recently I missed a birthday. This blog has been oinking for four years and twenty-eight days (as of the date of this post).

oink four Walrus and Carpenter shell

I didn’t forget the day. Weeks in advance I thought about what I wanted to say and realized maybe I should write more of the story.  And then I needed to think about how I want to do that. Currently, it’s like we’re having a conversation and we’ve agreed to rarely veer from one topic: food.

But food veers, right?

gypsy lunch in garden

Cuisines fuse. A wine can start out telling you one story, all bouncy and full of fruit then swerve into fields of metal, leather, ash.

Full Pull Seattle wine stained table

Even the humble cupcake has risen to prom queen and occasionally donned a matcha crown.

matcha and valencia orange muffins with matcha cream cheese frosting

I celebrated my first year of oinking with a slice of my grandmother’s favorite cake.

yellow cake with dark chocolate ganache icing

I floated through a fabric sky of cartoon clouds for birthday two.

oinking party fat pig birthday two

And fandangled paper umbrellas for year three.

mister bacon fatpiginthemarket birthday three

I’ve overindulged my love for a little alliteration and overused the word crunchy on several crisp occasions.

Spiced Roasted Chickpeas llamas love em

I’ve learned about SEO, hashtags, digital publishing and social media inadvertently. Because I probably wouldn’t have been nosing around in any of those topics (much less…tweetering) otherwise.

Showing up here, somewhat regularly, for snacks, beverages and wanders through cities all wrapped up in words has tilted my perspective. The food I eat and offer (and how I eat and offer food and drink) reflects my attitudes, inclinations and emotions. Food is a journey and a destination sprung from memories; inspired by moments that want tasting.

I need to think more about all that so I can write more about…all that. I’ll try to be enteratining and deep when I do.

Maybe this year we should chat about other things that feed us…like books. I savor books.

bookshelf nyc

We should have more prop-inspired tales because objects hold stories. And sometimes, in absence of words, there is language.

mended plaster hand

Maybe I’ll compile decades of recipes here in this little slice of cyber-space: a chronicle of my life baked into cakes and simmered into sauces.

May life ferment me to elixir.

plums in Everclear in Le Parfait jar

Let’s go where the oinking path takes us. Shall we?

plane paper pig dreams little cities

Happy Oinking Birthday, Fat Pig in the Market. Better late and considered than neverminded.

This celebration gives me a chance to say thank you for showing up here to you…readers, cocktailers, fellow wanters of beignets, lovers of little stories. It’s cool that you do. Thank you!

confetti candles googley eyes

I am here. You are here. Oink on.

This entry was posted in beverage, blogging, food, poems, prop tales, prose, short stories, The Cutlery Chronicles, Wandering Wednesday, Weird Wednesday, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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