Poets are a gift.
Because when Robert Frost writes, “I have been one acquainted with the night,” I too know that sadness of soul that has “walked out in rain—and back in rain.”
And when Paul Laurence Dunbar says, “Not they who soar, but they who plod /
Their rugged way, unhelped, to God / Are heroes . . .“ my fist pounds against my chest in hearty amen.
And when I am tempted to define myself by work, circumstances, successes, or failures, Walt Whitman sifts the fleeting leaves before me—“These come to me days and nights and go from me again / But they are not the Me myself.”
And when Emily Dickinson whispers, “My life closed twice before its close—” I know the foreboding despair that admits “It yet remains to see / If Immortality unveil / A third event to me.”
And when Langston Hughes testifies, “I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the flow of human blood in human veins,” I want to swim in those rivers and drown in their wisdom.
And when William Carlos Williams insists, “So much depends / Upon / A red wheel / Barrow / Glazed with rain / Water / Beside the white / Chickens,” he couldn’t be more right.
And when an embarrassed Anne Bradstreet addresses her own writing as, “Thou ill-form’d offspring of my feeble brain,” I sense the companionship of a kindred impostor.
And when the Psalmist pleads, “To you, O LORD, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me, lest, if you be silent to me, I become like those who go down to the pit,” my heart knows no better prayer.
Because poets are a gift.
When it comes to the kitchen, I don’t consider myself that creative. I’m more of a curator or collector when it come to recipes than a trailblazer. People used to exchange recipes more often—at bridal showers, church potlucks, and such. I guess people still do occasionally shoot links to each other in group texts or whatever.
But we should do it more, because recipes are a bit like poems. There is a kinship in cooking a dish cooked by others, savoring the same flavors.
Here’s one that seems hard but really just requires picking up some cheesecloth the next time you’re at the grocery. And it’s Ina—how bad could that be?
Ina’s Homemade Herbed Ricotta
Ingredients
4 cups whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
1 teaspoon kosher salt
3 tablespoons good white wine vinegar
cheesecloth
2 minced scallions
2 tablespoons minced fresh dill
1 tablespoon minced fresh chives
Bring the milk, cream, and salt to a rolling boil over medium heat. Make sure to use a tall-sided pot to prevent it from bubbling over.
Once boiling, take the cream mixture off the heat and add the vinegar, stirring briefly. After a minute, you should see the mixture separate into curds and whey.
Pour the curds into a sieve overlaid with cheesecloth set in a pot. Let the curds drain in the cheesecloth over the pot for 30 minutes.
In a bowl, mix the fresh ricotta with the chopped herbs. Add more salt and pepper to taste. Refrigerate and serve on garlic toast, crackers, or on homemade pizza!