You still hold an unshakeable power over me. I’ve professed that you haven’t. To myself. To others.
I was doing so well.
I hadn’t thought about you in months. Years, even.
I was in control.
How magical you can be. How you compliment so many things.
So simple, yet so profound. Unforgettable.
I could only resist you for so long.
With those flirty winks on my plate. You hold my gaze.
I cave. Devour every last morsel, with utter glee.
You nearly fall into my lap. I can’t help myself.
It’s a love affair I can‘t forget.
It’s my fault.
I did it to myself.
I made this:
Sure, I could’ve eaten it on it’s own. I’ve been doing Keto forever. It would’ve been fine. Just, fine, without you. For the most part, I’ve learned to live without you.
In truth, I blame it on what my partner was watching on the tele.
Rudy Maxa’s Hokkaido-Taste of Japan.
Damn you, rice.
Though my main dish was not Japanese, I was reminded of how precious and delicious it could be when kissed with rice. How it soaks in all of the flavours.
I had no choice.
I paired my slow cooker lemongrass beef stew with you. You lovely little morsels of perfection.
I went as far as to add some delectable Japanese gyozas on the side. I’ve always been a fan of fusion fun.
Worth. Every. Bite.
It will be some time before we meet again, my dear rice.
It is necessary. You still hold that power over me. I must proceed with caution when it comes to you.
But it won’t be forever. It can’t be. I love you too much.
After polishing my plate, I was instantly transported back to this moment, this image of delight and naughtiness. This mischievous grin:
I may’ve bamboozled myself. But. it. was. worth. it.
Until we meet again.