An Ode to Eating

By: Lauren Spagnoletti

Before the ingredients are purchased, before they’re cut up and simmered, sautéed, fried, or roasted, before they’re marinated or seasoned, the joy begins.

Imagining how the dish will come together, how it will taste when all the disparate parts become one: that is when I begin to enjoy eating.

As the scents fill the air, and the surfaces start to brown, the anticipation grows.

A final sprinkle of salt, a touch of cheese, a dash of pepper.

I gently plate my ingredients, which have come together to form a meal.

I create the perfect bite on my fork, and…


My Dance

By: Lauren Spagnoletti

There’s a little dance that goes into it. It’s not choreographed, but years and years of practice have made it possible. It starts with some good music, and pouring a glass of wine. The tools come out, and then the ingredients.

Then the timing takes over. This is where it gets fun. Boil this while you chop that. Simmer this while you mix that. Taste, adjust, taste again. Sip of wine, cut some basil. Drain the pasta, toss the sauté pan. My cues come from smells, colors, and tastes.

It’s my meditation and expression of art. It’s my love language.

Puncture Wound

By: Megan Cramer

The tip of the knife slipped past the loaf of olive bread and effortlessly punctured her thumb in a tidy but very deep slit. She dove inside the cut, which opened to her and took her lovingly into its embrace. Deeper and deeper she swam along her own arteries… all the way to her own heart. She watched it pump. She continued to swim around inside of herself for the rest of the afternoon until she sensed that the wound was finally clotting and her exit would be inhibited. She emerged, rinsed the bloody knife and finished slicing the loaf.


By: Megan Cramer

Susie sat on the couch in front of the television, salivating as she raptly watched the documentary about the master chefs.

They sliced and diced and cut and cubed and tasted and tested.

They added spice and sauce and seared and sauteed and foamed and frothed.

They iterated and innovated and inspired.


“Those chefs thought OUTSIDE of the BOX!!!”


And she continued to watch them do it, drooling a bit as she existed inside of her own “box”: brazenly sipping her boxed wine from a mason jar, cheesy popcorn residue on her fingertips.

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