Lagniappe: A little meal of peace

Sometimes I rather like noise. The testosterone-fuelled roar of a football match heard from my back garden; the tired and blissfully happy sounds of a crowd singing along at a festival; the swoosh of a barista's steam wand. But most times I prefer peace and quiet. The sound of snow falling in a forest os more my style — something I have yet to hear this year.

There is quiet food also. The tastes of peace and quiet, of gentleness and calm. The solitary observance of a bowl of white rice; the peacefulness of a dish of pearl barley; running your fingers through couscous. The thing these have in common is that they are grains or something of that ilk. What is it about these ingredients that makes them so calming? Could it just be that they bring us gastronomically down to earth, show us how pure and simple good eating can be? This is food pretty much stripped of its trappings. This is, after all, the food that many people survive upon.

Nigel Slater, February 26, The kitchen diaries II

After reading so much from The Power of Silence it was interesting to come upon a meditation on silence from a completely different source.