Smörgåsbord, thali, picnic… call it what you like, my favorite kind of meal is one made of lots of little dishes, spread all around, a bite here, a bite there – each taste a little bit different, each delightful on its own.

While there’s nothing wrong with slurping up a big old bowl of something, or knife-and-forking your way through a Texas-sized slab of medium-rare dead mammal, the best (for me anyway – my post, my definition of best) is that Christmas morning feeling of “which one first?”

Mr Tater and I create the same sort of thing when we get take-out Thai. We’ll order enough for 4 people, spread it all over the kitchen table and graze. When we’re done, we box it up and eat leftovers for days.

We just did this last night and I’m so sorry I didn’t take a photo of it – but here’s the morning-after result.


I like my life like that too. In lots of little compartments, each one delicious on its own, but even better when contrasted and compared with all the other parts. I blog, I read, I walk, I quilt, I just started trying my hand at Mandala art, I do needlepoint  – I don’t do any of these things VERY well (except the reading, I guess, I’m pretty darned good at that), but I enjoy doing all of them. I don’t think I would be as happy if I had just one obsessive hobby that I spent all my time on.

Variety – the spice of whatever.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Food for the Soul (and the Stomach).”


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