halva halv not

hunting and gathering here for food..
my grasp of the greek is greek to me..
it makes label reading an impossibility..

i know feta when i see it..
and halva..
(which i have had to give up..)
he calls to me from the kitchen in the wee hours..
with that irresistable greek accent
“come to me, dunja..”
o those lovesick blues..

the crackers i bought were gluten free..
sadly they were free of every and anything
that could make them even remotely edible..
yet, eat them i did..salt, you know..

imagine this!
a chicken pot pie wrapped in filo dough
all rolled up and sprinkled with sesame seeds..
could very well be the ultimate comfort food..
then there are the cheese pies ~
o my o!

the restaurant around the corner opens
for the season tomorrow..
my eye has been on its progress..
a young man has been scrubbing and painting..
every day... i tell him i am getting very hungry..
he always laughs ~

i must look like a bit of a hungry dog..
fotini, the caring woman who waters the plants and lives around the corner
brought over garbanzos in olive oil..okra in olive oil..
adding them to my greek kichadi..it made for a flavorful concoction..

when returning her empty bowls,
i added a ripe pear and my kindergarten card..
~ a red heart scribbled on scratch paper..
'even with slender means, the sentiments
of the heart can be expressed.'


at upaya zen center this grace is shared before each meal:

earth, water, fire, air and space combine to make this food.
numberless beings gave their lives and labors that we may eat.
may we be nourished that we may nourish life.