transport | The Direction of Intention

Taste The Memory [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

Posted on February 17, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

It’s true. Taste can be a time machine. Champagne and burgers and fries – an odd combo to be sure – will always transport me to a specific magical evening in 2013, the night Kerri and my relationship launched into the mystical. It’s the story behind the story of why we had the Burgermeister truck cater our wedding.

After she wrote and produced this cartoon, we had a lengthy and delicious conversation about the foods that take us back. Try it. You’ll be amazed at the places you revisit. I landed in Slumgully. And Columbus’ delightful and mysteriously shaped pancakes for dinner. Extra syrup!

This week, we added a sure-fire food-memory destination: shrimp tacos with caramelized pineapple and red cabbage. Good god. I just went there and now I’m starving!

read Kerri’s blog about FOOD TIME MACHINE

like. eat. remember. comment. share. eat some more. support. eat again.

buymeacoffee is a prerequisite for eating baked ziti in a tiny bistro unless the bistro only exists in kerri’s imagination where money is not an issue.

Filed under: smack-dab | Tagged: aarp, artistry, childhood, childhood memories, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, food, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, memories, memory, middle age cartoon, middle age romance, recipes, senses, shrimp tacos, slumgully, smack-dab, story, studio melange, taste, the melange, the poser of taste, the power of the senses, time machine, transport | 2 Comments »

Step In [on DR Thursday]

Posted on December 22, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve read that the purpose of the gorgeous soaring cathedrals, built in the middle ages over many lifetimes, in the age before power tools and hydraulic lifts, was to transport the worshipper from the harsh realities of their everyday lives. To give them a small glimpse into their notion of heaven. A sanctuary. A taste of peace.

We made it a point to stop. The road home from Chicago runs past the small village square with the gazebo awash in the light of a tree, the brilliant green and blue spheres beckoning. It was late at night and very cold but we had to stop. We wandered, breaking the cold silence with crunchy footfall and took photographs. For a few moments time stopped. Rather than being transported from our lives, we stepped fully into our moment. We entered our present-cathedral, alive with many moons, and absorbed its quiet peace.

Open to all the stars in the universe, this sanctuary filled us with beauty and hope.

That night, all we needed to do to fill ourselves with hope was make it a point to stop. To step out of our warm car and step into the cold night. No stonemasons needed. No toil-over-lifetimes. Just a simple decision. Stop. Open the door. Step in.