wasting wishes

I have been here before.

Often.

So, I should have not been surprised that it happened again.

Now and then, Chronos is kind enough to hand me a lump of time I can do with as I choose. Frequently, it happens while I am in airports waiting for a connecting flight.

Let's assume I have just stumbled off of my 16-hour Cathay Pacific flight from Los Angeles to Hong Kong. I wander up to The Wing lounge, treat myself to a rain-head shower, and then eat a lunch that is barely the temporal side of transcendent. I still have nine hours until my flight to Sydney starts boarding.

So, I snuggle into a leather club chair, hook up the chargers for my electronic equipment, and start reading while enjoying a pot of green tea as only the Chinese can make it.

And I feel lucky. Even though I am retired, the demands of running a house (and simply enjoying life in Mexico) intrude of my reading and writing schedule. I always dream of lining up a couple of newspapers, National Review, The Economist, a book of poetry, a biography, and maybe even a novel. Every writer (and reader) yearns for those borderless frontiers.

Then, I squander them. Almost always.

Before I started my walking regimen a couple of years ago, I had no trouble sitting and enjoying a book or two for hours on end. Studying in law school was a snap for me. As was researching and writing briefs to the supreme court.

No longer. After about twenty minutes of reading, I need to get up and move around. The same is true for movies, I can no longer sit through one without interruption. And, once i get up and start moving, I keep right on walking.

In airports that is a perfect combination. Terminals always make great walking spaces. The Hong Kong airport is especially good. I can then return to reading when the sitting mode switches on.

Yesterday, I was looking forward to a full day of reading. Hurricane Willa's rain was heavy enough that exercising was out of the question. So, I wrote an essay to you -- and then started reading. For 20 minutes.

What to do? Then, it hit me. Instead of walking, I would indulge my primary passion. Cooking.

Since I returned to the healthy diet crew, I have been eating a lot of soups. Not only are they healthy, but they offer a cook endless creativity possibilities. After all, if it can be eaten, it can be turned into a soup.

Today, I decided I wanted something simple, but elegant.

Our tomatoes here are pathetic when it comes to taste and texture. They are primarily grown for export (the type of tomatoes you find in Safeway are ubiquitous here). Thick-skinned. Dry. Perfect for shipping, but lousy as a food item.

But they are what we have. I bought a couple pounds specifically for soup. That was the easy part. What I wanted, though, was a layered soup that would make me fondly remember the time I took in preparing it.

I decided on two balancing primary flavors. The acidity of sour orange and the subtle sweetness of French tarragon.

So, I sautéed the tomatoes with onion, shallots, garlic, celery, serranos, a habanero, the zest of a sour orange, tarragon, and a little tomato paste, and ran the whole combination through my food processor before combining it with chicken stock.

While it was simmering, I balanced the orange and tarragon with small layers of oregano, thyme, and cayenne pepper. The trick was to add just enough flavor to subtly alter the mix without overpowering the two primary tastes.

Not all of my soup experiments work. This was one of the successes. In fact, I would put it up against the soups at my favorite Florence restaurant, Enoteca Pinchiorri.

If you doubt me, stop by and compare. I am always up to the challenge. It was worth the three-hour preparation time.

And because I am a patient man, I was able to slip in one-third of my daily walking before midnight appeared.

I guess the moral of all this is that we often do not really want what we wish for in life. I say I want time to read uninterrupted -- when what I really want is the time to enjoy the moments I am given.

For some reason, I need to re-learn that lesson regularly.

Maybe because I enjoy experiencing it anew each time.