for the love of vegetables


I think the secret to me continuing to come here will be keeping things simple and brief. For the time being, at least.

This is a celery flower I made today, just by chopping a bunch of celery at the stump. Before today I never knew celery could be pretty. I also tried to make a stamp out of it. That didn’t work so well. It also earned me some strange looks.

But what can I say… I spend a lot of time these days with vegetables. I turn weekend pureeing sessions into soup-making extravaganzas and all of a sudden it’s not the weekend any more, and all I can remember is the things I did with vegetables, nothing else.

The other night I had a dream and in that dream the only thing I remember (I think possibly it was actually the only thing in the dream) was a broken Pyrex jug (I also spend a lot of time with Pyrex jugs). It was kind of Dali-esque, only in a domestic setting (instead of lunar-looking empty nightscapes picture an expanse of marble benchtop – equally unsettling in its own way). The image of it stuck with me for ages. I spent more time thinking about it than I probably should have. It has changed my relationship with Pyrex jugs. Maybe not irrevocably. But for now it feels like I will never look at Pyrex jugs the same way again.

Three other things of domestic note:

1. The other day my stick blender started smoking. You know what I mean. (It didn’t cave under the immense workload demanded of it and head down the road for a packet of B&H.) And I kept using it, desperate, determined to see every ounce of swede (or whatever it was) pulverised beyond recognition if it was the last thing I ever did. And, billowing with smoke, it honoured its commitment. And it hasn’t smoked again since.

2. The other day (actually it was a few weeks ago now, but I don’t get here often) the Sodastream machine exploded everywhere. It was cataclysmic and traumatic and fortunately I didn’t have a small child in the kitchen with me at the time.

3. Recently, for the first time, I experienced Tupperware rage. I caught myself in the throes of this rage and made myself walk away from the cupboard. So much Tupperware (seriously, so much) and so few lids. I don’t get it. All I can think is that somewhere in some parallel universe there are a bunch of Tupperware lids, missing bath plugs and orphaned socks hanging out having a damn good laugh.

And that is also why I should keep things short here. There are only so many domestic encounters a person can handle being subjected to second-hand.

I like hanging out with vegetables, though. It’s a total conceit but it makes me feel at one with things. I think of colonial New Zealand women with giant shelf-bosoms (I don’t know why I had to include that detail, but it’s all part of the conceit) preparing meals and it makes me feel like maybe nothing much really changes (outside of everything always changing, that is). That there will always be women (men too, probably, but not with shelf-bosoms) standing at sinks, accidentally wet around the tummy mark, accumulating piles of peelings, caught in very prosaic reveries (has such-and-such a bill been paid… where have the parking tickets disappeared to, etc). I like vegetable time the way I imagine I might have liked gardening if I had come into genetic possession of a green thumb.

Anyway, this isn’t particularly brief.

So, to end, a quote from Ann Patchett, from her Kindle Single, The Getaway Car.

One Response to “for the love of vegetables”

  1. 1 Kowhai


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