A Different Pot of Red
The plane felt like it was careening towards BWI. The landing, a bit disheveled.
I pushed (delicately) past those needing assistance and mothers with young children. I'm not proud.
"I'm almost there." He said.
"I'll be waiting outside." I said.
Balmy. B'more. Baltimore, hon!
Things slowly settled. Old patterns emerged.
Another pot of sauce.
"I put celery, garlic, shallot and crushed red pepper." I said.
All thinly sliced. Two cans of whole tomatoes (milled). A deep red emerged.
"How is it?" I asked.
"It's good." He said.
Just when I thought there couldn't be another red...