Hey Portland, Oregon, Hey Long Beach, Washington:
I write you this love letter from an old tea plantation in Sri Lanka. It’s September and you may just be coming out of your Feast hangover. Don’t worry, Wild About Game is just around the corner and if you let the party happen- it will.
I’m sorry it took me a while to share some of my favorite moments of you. My job sometimes sucks— I have to hustle every moment to find a way to tell what i see as the most amazing things about food in our world- while trying to keep the lights on. Maybe it’s time I just use the hammer and nail to fashion a mobile shack that i can carry around like a turtle?
Anyways, I’ve been drinking for the last 6 hours and likely have another 6 to go. (Not to mention 3 days of traveling to get from the highlands in Sri Lanka to Darjeeling in India). The sun is setting over Lover’s Leap in the Nuwara Eliya tea making region, painting traces of pink and grey and a smokey blue, which just reminds me; I need to roll a cigarette.
The story of this tragic high peak has been sold to me a few ways but sums up as such: Forced marriages that tore true lovers apart climbed this mighty peak to leap to their deaths in protest.
My life on the road can sometimes feel like an arranged marriage. Don’t get me wrong; I live it and I love it. But it's starting to make a gal feel a bit as though she leaps away from her love every time she leaves as though in protest.
Those traces of evergreen, grey, and smokey blue- you, Pacific Northwest- I sure as hell do miss you when I go.
Fuck it, I’m having a smoke. Just watch the episode.