I am back after a two month blog hiatus. Time off for all sorts of events, personal and professional, the biggest of which was hip surgery: Three weeks ago after three years of hip pain during which, hoping to avoid surgery, I subjected myself to virtually every alternative treatment known to man, I had my left hip replaced. The surgery went brilliantly. My incision is a mere 3.5 inches long and my forehead is adorned with stars for being an A-plus patient–true, true, true, I am considerably younger and more fit than the average hip patient! Still, three weeks out I can walk close to a half mile with a cane, and I am looking forward to resuming swimming in a week or two, yoga in six weeks, and hiking in New England this summer. Oh, yes and walking in the city–in recent months walking on hard city pavement has been torture.
Which is not to say that the past three weeks haven’t had their challenges. What I feared was big pain. What I got was soreness, low energy and the blah blah blah feeling that I was trapped in my house (not allowed to drive) where like Rapunzel in the tower, I would forever be isolated, removed and lonely in my prison while all the other children were allowed to go outside and play. OK, I am a bit melodramatic, but that’s my nature.
And then yesterday, my energy –my real, vital, life loving energy started to pour back into my body and the most amazing thing happened: I started to think about food. Food I would like to eat. Food I would like to cook. Lying in bed last night, I started to think about Sunday brunch. How about home fries with chicken sausage, scrambled eggs with roasted grape tomatoes and avocado, and a citrus salad with fresh fennel and roasted olives? Hmmmm, I wish I were eating that meal right now.
Coffee too returned as object of passion. Coffee under normal conditions is one of my favorite foods. For three weeks following my surgery, the contents of my coffee cupboard were dwindling and I couldn’t rouse myself to order a fresh supply online. John brought some coffee back from Wholefoods –a Kenyan from Allegro — not bad, pretty good, but not sparkling and alive and morning-transforming like the coffees I regularly order from Counter Culture, Intelligentsia and Stumptown.
I hadn’t ordered for a while from CC, so yesterday, vaguely aware of the symbolic significance of my act, I went on the CC website and ordered three Latin American coffees –a microlot from a farmer named Ariel Payjoy’s who is part of the La Golindrina in Colombia. A 100 percent Bourbon from Aida Batlle’s Finca Mauritania in El Salvador. And farmer Yefri Pintado microlot from Valle del Santuario in San Ignacio –I think this is my first Peruvian microlot.
I am counting the hours until these coffees arrive. And if truth be told: I am counting the hours until lunch today. And dinner tonight. And did I tell you about the champagne mango I just skinned and ate standing at the kitchen sink. Did I tell you how the juice ran down my arm and the flesh of the fruit was succulent and smoky redolent of earth and sex. I am hungry. I am well. I am back.