Which takes me to porn. Don't turn away! I'm not going to embarrass you, me or my mom in this conversation. (While I'd love to say that I'll actually make my mom proud with this post, that wouldn't exactly be accurate either. Probably.)
Pornography has been around for a long time. Frescos uncovered in the ancient city of Pompeii (buried under 20 feet of volcanic ash in AD 79) depicted graphic scenes of handsome men and beautiful women doing their best to illustrate the entire catalogue of The Birds and the Bees. Man/Woman, Men/Women, Man/Man, Woman/Woman and sometimes Man/Woman/Member of the Animal Kingdom. Pretty much everything there to view. Like a very educational Google search. Or late night Cinemax.
Do you know what Bree Olson isn't? She isn't real. Bree Olson isn't her real name. You can find her stats and dimensions; her turn ons and turn offs; what she thinks about the industry, Charlie Sheen, and religion. But you and I don't know what she's like in an arguement. We don't know how she cleans her house, how she cuddles up to a loved one when she's tired, nor the quirks she has about shopping. In short, we don't have a person. We have a porn starlet.
Pornography is a poor (albeit sexy) imitation of a relationship. It doesn't show the day-to-day events and activities that build a partnership. It doesn't show taking out the trash, changing the diapers or rubbing your beloved's feet. It only shows you . . . well . . . you know.
And THAT is why I hate the term "food porn." Example: While I love Neil Patrick Harris, and he has a great Twitter feed of beautiful food from famous restaurants from all over the world, (@NPHFoodPorn), the real beauty of the food he is enjoying is NOT in the picture of the dish, but in the making and sensuality of it.
Food porn doesn't show you the ingredients, challenges, efforts and triumphs of truly wonderful cuisine. The time it takes assemble disparate parts; the sweat in a hot kitchen; the sticky fingers; flour hanging in the air; the smell of soup-stock simmering on the stove. This where my relationship to food gets permanently fixed in my soul.
But here's the rub: I still love looking at pictures of food. The experience can be inspirational. There is a fantasy, a desire, a carnal wanting that makes you crave more. Yes, even though I hate the thought of food porn, I indulge in it, too. The preacher also sins.
So here's a couple of recipes that could be food porn, but I am better for having had the relationship.
In a wide-mouth mason jar, layer rose petals and sugar. Somewhere in the middle, sprinkle in the spices. Finish with rose petals on top.
Seal the jar and place it in the sun for 6 hours a day for 3-4 weeks. Every other day, open the jar and give it a stir with the handle of a wooden spoon. (Opening the jar also allows you to indulge your senses by taking a whiff. I have to imagine this is what faerie farts smell like.) There will be condensation in the jars. This is good.
After 3-4 weeks, the petals break down and everything turns dark and muddy in color. This is also good. The sugar crystals melt and clump and pick up color and flavor.
In a clean jar, combine all the dried ingredients EXCEPT for the lavender. Add the Everclear and the gentian root extract. Seal the jar and store in a cool, dark place for 7 days. Give it a good shake once a day. The liquid should start to turn orange.
After the first week has passed, add the lavender. Shake once a day for 7 more days.
Strain it through a seive to catch the big stuff, then double filter it through a pitcher water filter (I use a Brita).
When it is pretty clear (although very dark), put it in a sauce pan over medium low heat. Reduce it to 1/2. Store in clean jars.