oh, for the love of cheese.

For the past week or so, I have been craving fresh mozzarella.

It started mildly, but over the past few days I've been indulging in all-out fantasies: I see myself going to the Co-Op, walking through the chilled aisles, and stopping in front of the cheese. I pick up the ball of fresh mozzarella from its countryesque picnic basket, among the other cheeses. On the way back to my apartment, I stop at the Bonjour bakery and select a loaf of French bread. Now I see myself at the kitchen table, which I, of course, imagine into place (as we don't have one yet)... slicing the bread, dousing each slice with olive oil, adding a basil leaf, and topping with a slice of tomato, and an equally thick slice of fresh mozzarella. It is beautiful, undeniable food.

My fixation may have started with the capriccio I had at Artopolis something like a month ago, when some friends and I decided to just eat, and not think about money. This was after spending all day in Belmont, and having eaten dinner already at the Chicago Diner (very good vegetarian restaurant, with surprisingly good seitan gyros). Now, two or three hours later, we were eating again. I began with a bowl of lentil soup--one of the most comforting things in the world. This was served with an continuous supply of (freshly-baked) bread. Then came the capriccio. Finally I ordered an absolutely beautiful chocolate mousse, held in cake-like shape by a chocolate coating. I could only get half-way through it, having reached my breaking point, and I brought the rest back for Upekha. But I'm here this summer, and I will finish that chocolate mousse.

Whatever happens with men in my life, the love of food lives on.