I initially thought responding to your witty call for food idioms would be like taking candy from a baby, but perhaps because my synapses are slow as molasses in January I’m not able to bring home the bacon on this one. That is, this couch potato isn’t going to write anything that you could sink your teeth into or anything that will cause you to exclaim, “This is the greatest thing since sliced bread!”

All kidding aside, I hope your readers emphasize the etymology of all these idioms because I’ve always wondered about the binary nature of the food mentioned in these phrases. For instance, someone could be called the apple of one’s eye but later be called a rotten apple . An object could be labeled as not worth a hill of beans, but then someone could be cautioned not to spill the beans. Are beans worthless or valuable? And let’s not forget about being called the big cheese, which may say something about your exalted position, but being cheesy or a cheese ball speaks to a lower social prominence.

Here’s hoping we all can indulge in the fruit of your readers’ labor.

Watching my food grow shows me how much energy it takes to simply be alive, that maybe I pack too much into each day, not giving myself enough time to live, to repair from the day before and put it all back into order for the next day.

This is a fantastic line. I agree that each day can take lots of energy, especially those days that we are lucky enough to be able to approach it with a thoughtful and conscious manner throughout the day.

Note: There were a few ravioli that stuck to the waxed paper and subsequently got mangled in the boiling process. Luckily for Trista, the mangled ravioli were deemed inappropriate to transport and that meant some “mistakes” being consumed at home.

Anyone have ideas on how to store prepared ravioli away so that they can be used later in the week? My fear is that if I freeze them after rolling them out that they will stick to the waxed paper or parchment paper and I won’t be able to lift them off the paper without tearing them open. Thoughts?

Walk on rice paper, young grasshopper. Very nice tribute.

Thank you, Ms. Fasenfest, for sharing your experience and your memories. I never personally met the Fullers, but touched by their kindness and thoughtfulness. I was fortunate enough to be able to volunteer for two Habitat trips to the South: one to Sumter, South Carolina (which was my first visit to the South) for two weeks, and a trip ten years later for a week in Lafayette, Louisiana.
Your post stirred those wonderful memories of the friends made, habitat raised, and the food devoured. As one local put it: Work hard and play hard.

This is fantastic! Touching and grounded--and I agree with Trista’s comment about the confident distinction. As an aside, I’m wondering about the concoction: does it have an overwhelming taste of honey or is it like swallowing a spoonful of glaze? Does it just stay on your counter for a few days until you kick the cold?

Thanks for stopping by, cafemama and Kim. It’s so fun to have visitors. I’m new to the blogging world (as you can tell from my lack of profile—still working on the picture).

Kim or others: Do you know if the Food Innovation Center has “tours” for the public? It seems like it would a fun place to visit and soak up the good vibes and creativity.

I liked the convergence of the poem and image with your farmers’ market experience. Nicely done. I too am a big fan of any farmers’ market—see my nascent Culinate blog—though my shopping is a bit more instant-gratification oriented. . .