This morning I wept while reading the New York Times. My tears were brought on by eulogy of sorts, though it did not appear in the Obituaries section. This story ran in the Dining portion of the paper, and it memorializes the life and death of the Minimalist column written by Mark Bittman.
Don't tell Dr. P, but I have often felt that Bittman is my culinary soul mate. I love the spirit he brings to the kitchen. He's dynamic, funny, confident, yet totally not cocky. I get his humor, I dig the way he writes recipes, and I deeply appreciate that he is not a respecter of ingredients. I'm completely devoted to his weekly videos, and perhaps too enamored with his amazing 101 Recipes series that comes out 1 or 2 times a year. Add to all of this the fact that the first EVER Minimalist column ran on my 10th birthday, and I think it's safe to say that WE WERE MEANT FOR EACH OTHER. *sob, sniffle, sob...*
And now, it's over. Just like that. Last week we were happily making innovative pancakes together, and today... POOF!
The truth is that Mark won't be gone, but things are going to change. He's moved on to a new column in the opinions section, and I just don't know what that's going to mean for us. I guess all I can do now, is remember the good times we had, and try not to be bitter about the way things ended. Love can be so confusing...