A Filler Post

Hi everybody, I'm happy to say that I didn't actually fall of the face of the earth (although I may have fallen off the virtual one). Things got rather hectic around my neck of the woods and I put the blog at the end of my priorities. I'm going to share a favorite story of  mine this week instead of the deeply thought out literary analysis I had planned to tide you guys over until things settle down. I really enjoy this story because not only is it profound and makes you feel good, it's about food. It's called "The Samurai and the Zen Master" (if you have heard it before you can either read it again or wait until my next post for a different topic):




A certain samurai had a reputation for impatient and hot-tempered behavior. A Zen Master, well known for his excellent cooking, decided that the warrior needed to be taught a lesson before he became any more dangerous. He invited the samurai to dinner.

The samurai arrived at the appointed time. The Zen master told him to make himself comfortable while he finished preparing the food. A long time passed. The samurai waited impatiently. After a while he called out: "Zen Master - have you forgotten me?"

The Zen master came out of the kitchen. "I am very sorry," he said. "Dinner is taking longer to prepare than I had thought." He went back to the kitchen.

A long time passed. The samurai sat, growing hungrier by the minute. At last he called out a little softer this time: "Zen Master - please. When will dinner be served?"

The Zen master came out of the kitchen. "I'm sorry. There has been a further delay. It won't be much longer." He went back to the kitchen.

A long time passed. Finally, the samurai couldn't endure the waiting any longer. He rose to his feet, chagrined and ravenously hungry. Just then, the Zen master entered the room with a tray of food. First he served miso shiru (soybean soup).

The samurai gratefully drank the soup, enchanted by it's flavour. "Oh, Zen Master," he exclaimed, "this is the finest miso shiru I have ever tasted! You truly deserve your reputation as an expert cook!

"It's nothing," replied the Zen master, modestly. "Only miso shiru."

The samurai set down his empty bowl. "Truly magical soup! What secret spices did you use to bring out the flavor?"

"Nothing special," the Zen master replied.

"No, no - I insist. The soup is extraordinarily delicious!"

"Well, there is one thing . . ."

"I knew it!" exclaimed the samurai, eagerly leaning forward. "There had to be something to make it taste so good! Tell me - what is it?"

The Zen master softly spoke: "It took time," he said.


It may be easier to demand instant gratification, but it wont benefit in the long run (and we're all here for a very long time, whether you like it or not). Sometimes the best dinner in the middle of winter is the slow-cooked stew. It's rarely the stuff in the can that you zap in the microwave. Doesn't life work the same way, too? It's hard to wait for a good thing, you never know if it will ever come along, but in the end it's totally worth it.


I promise, a literary analysis is coming soon!