of Morning Flavors

I woke this morning to what must have been the sound the air makes as the first rays of sun spill into the room. The golds and whites of the light create a vacuum for the shadows. They give me a path to follow as my eyes adjust from a night of darkness.

There was quiet all around me. The floor felt cool under my feet as I made my way to the kitchen. I scooped the coffee beans into the grinder. The smell of the whole coffee beans is fruity and aromatic… it is the aroma of time and of a craftsman’s patience.

I moved to the century old chopping block that anchors my kitchen. The yellow and white potatoes stand ready with their fragile skins and droplets of cold rinse water. My ears are filled with the rhythmic sounds of my favorite knife piercing and slicing in a well rehearsed cubed pattern. I pause to see the cross hatches in the ancient wood below my knife. Generations of my family have repeated the same chorus as I… perhaps with the smell of coffee in the air and in the quiet.

There is a familiar sizzle in my favorite pan… the rendered bacon grease that adds a depth to the flavor of my potatoes flows around the raw onion that has given in to the edge of my knife. The transparent onion skin reflects a copper light that melts into the watery surface of the ancient maple...  it balances on a torn edge and looks as if it is waiting for an errant breeze to pull it into the air.

The seasoning is like a symphony… the rough texture of the sea salt fades into the crevices of the pan while the pepper grinder glides over and around vibrating under my palm and fingers. A small pinch of cayenne pepper and paprika leave freckles of flavor on every morsel.

Soon the variety and contrasts of color meld into golden brown. The steam from the moisture of the potatoes and onion hover close to the heat and disappear as invisible vapor. After a last toss and stir from my favorite bamboo spoon and a quick cook’s taste… a simple beginning of a warm start of breakfast is ready. The golden brown of the potatoes roll around the caramelized onion and smile upon the shiny white of the kitchen platter. A final contrast of dried parsley pulls the eyes into a green morning’s dance…

                                                          Shannon R Killman