Of Grief & Hollandaise

Pete. 199? - 2010

On Sunday my beautiful dog, Pete, died.  On Monday I made Hollandaise sauce. I did this with swollen eyes, shaking hands, throbbing head, nauseous stomach, and empty heart.  I clarified butter, I whisked egg yolks,  I squeezed a lemon, I seasoned my sauce with salt and cayenne pepper. It came out well enough; I suppose it was good.

I didn't do it because I'm going to be tested on it tomorrow in my culinary final. I didn't do it because I was hungry. I suppose I did it because of the amount of precision and concentration required. While in the past I have always cooked to be fully in the moment, this time I cooked to be out of it. I cooked to escape into the cooking, and out of the grief. Just for a minute.