A Valentines Day Recipe

 The paprika should be a deep crimson like freshly drawn blood. A chalice of onion and garlic powder, crushed red pepper the size of a little heart, a spoon of sea salt and black pepper, and a small scoop of brown sugar to confuse the rest of the players.

Add it to a bowl; a bowl that fits your hand. Mix them well. Let the mix fall through the gaps in between your fingers like a memory that slipped away. Let it not be intentional.

Liberally season that filet steak with this mix. Use your hand. Pat it down so that the meat soaks it up. Not too hard, not too soft. Think of someone you love; you would know how to do it.

Ensure that the pan is hot before you lower the steak into it. Help it slide down as the heat hisses in fiery passion and starts to work on the tenderness. Let both sides get the same treatment. No side feels ignored on this special day!

Let it cook until it matches the color of caramelized honey on the outside and still sore and pink in the center. If it still bleeds a little, you did it right. It will never forget you.

Don't forget a rich Bordelaise sauce. Finely chopped shallots, a little dried thyme, one bay leaf and 2 cups of beef stock. A full cup of Bordelaise from where you had a sip. Wipe your lips with the back of your palm. Finish off the sauce with a bit of beurre manie and thicken it like a dream. Bless it with some salt and pepper to taste. Dip a finger into it, lick it up. Does it feel like silk? Does it feel like you just invaded some place you shouldn't have? Then it's about right.

By the side you have crispy roasted potatoes and brussel sprouts with Parmesan and Balsamic. Green runner beans tossed in butter (They were once snakes in another life; they make you do things) and a few honey brown sugar roasted carrots.

Now it's time. A generous slice of the steak covered in sauce followed by a little of everything else in the plate. If it all can fit on a fork, better. Open your mouth, close your eyes.

Eat. All of it. Feed someone you love this evening. Feed yourself.

Happy lovin Valentines day.

Bon fuckn apetit!

Reconstruct

 A small thick ringed cake-like, glistening under a translucent sugary crust, fresh, soft and warm, turning damp and spot-blushing under your fingertips, break, as you exhale with every bite where both rows of teeth meet briefly…crumble, give in, disappear under a vanilla flavored breath. A doughnut.

Dainty, delicate and geometric. Float down in a drunken reverie to land belly up noiseless, lonesome and dizzy. White symmetric ephemeral wisps….waiting for an instant meltdown. A snowflake.

Half covered in sand and grass, the innards long gone and bleached pale grey. Treads faint and withered, where years have bared the white thread, soaked in rain, lies forgotten. An old tyre.

Nothing lasts forever.

Unless you take pictures, and frame them in an 8 x 10. Over a fire place, on a table.

Where you get to see it often.

Where it comes alive.

Again.