It's late Friday afternoon and I'm at Victrola. Funny how evening becomes "late afternoon" in the spring when it's lighter later. It was 75 degrees and sunny today. Conveniently, I'm sick, and so I didn't have to work under flourescent lights. I did, however, need to ingest several cloves of raw crushed garlic and four cups of Gypsy Cold Care.
Magali has this recipe. It works every time.
Magali is a bright gem of girlishness from Guatemala. She lived in Allston for a little while. When she left to continue her travels, she sent Bee and I letters in Spanish and we tried to translate them. She shared a single bed with another girl in a 3-bedroom, 6 person house because the rent was only $250 a month. She wore thick dark hair that swam to her waist and a vibrant colored, nubby hand-knit sweater. She was a raw and wild brand of effortlessly beautiful. Make-up would have looked like dirt on her face. She had shining black eyes and she closed them when she played the drum with her small strong hands. Kobie, who wouldn't let anyone hold him, would sleep in her lap. She gave him snout massages because she was worried his constantly moving nose would get tired. We all loved Magali.
She had this recipe when I got sick. Equal parts crushed garlic cloves, fresh ginger root, and raw honey. You eat two tablespoonfuls of it every few hours. It's hard to get down. But it's magic. It burns whatever ails you right out of your cells every time. Last night I added a pinch of cayenne pepper to the concoction and chased it with echinacea tea and the juice of a whole lemon. ZING! I've been thinking fondly of Magali for the past couple of days. Sending her warm vibes of gratitude.
Today is the first iced coffee day of the season. My sweating jumbo cup deposits its ring on the granite table. The huge windows are open and the incense from the candle store down the block wafts in when the wind blows. I'm listening to the Beach Boys.
Life is good.
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