Charcuterie boards

When I was a kid, I drew horses incessantly. I had a file folder of loose 3-hole-punch, wide-ruled paper, each piece graced with an angular, thin-haired creature with legs like sharp-elbowed noodles ending in clunky, oversized hooves. 

I’ve realized just now that the preceding sentence is an accurate description of myself at that time. I suppose every work of art is a self-portrait, in some way. 

Hm. Anyway...  

My peers loved them and soon I was “adopting” them out to my friends, who eagerly incorporated them into their imaginary menageries. At its height, my own invisible zoological collection included everything from saber-toothed cats and dragons to Galapagos Tortoises and African wild dogs. And of course, a stable-full of magnificent horses, which I rode just about everywhere: prancing along the halls of my elementary school, trotting through the grocery store, or galloping full-tilt down the sanctuary aisles while my mom rehearsed organ music for upcoming Sundays. 

Needless to say, with so many creatures to care for, I was only too happy to find homes for the surplus. And knowing that my creations would end up with my friends made them easier to part with, as I’d be “seeing” them in my friends’ menageries on a regular basis. 

And of course, they made my friends happy. Which makes me happy. 

Hard cut to 2021, and me re-stacking a pile of foraged lumber to better catch the breeze from a small, oscillating fan in my parents’ garage. Like every one of those imaginary horses years ago, each piece of wood has a personality to me. It came from a living thing, after all; a living thing that had a life, much longer than my own, its figure shaped by its past. It has a name and an identity and it’s why I sit with each piece for so long before I shape it, read books and send bark samples to national labs to figure out what it is. I want to know its story. 

And even four pieces cut from the same chunk can be fabulously unique. Like four siblings. Or four horses, drawn with the same crayon. 

They have a ways to go yet, but once these pieces are dried, planed, filled, sanded, and finished....I’ll be adopting them out. And four lucky people will get to enjoy four very real (not imaginary) charcuterie board creatures, full of personality, with stories to tell. The perfect addition to a kitchen menagerie. 

Or perhaps, the start of one.