On Celery

Recently I've become obsessed with celery. I kept the news to myself for the longest time, until finally I phoned my sister Paula and shared it with her. I told her everything: how I like eating it raw as a snack, or dipped into organic peanut butter, or stuffed with pimento or cream cheese, or finely diced and folded into a wonderous Waldorf Salad.

I spoke about celery's crunch factor, and we both agreed that my description of the taste as being "mint-like and yet not really" hit pretty close to the mark. We discussed celery salt and how neither of use it enough, nor to its full advantage. We probably mentioned 100 recipes that use, or could use, celery during our conversation. As you can see, I'm simply smitten.

As we were about to finish our call, I remembered a rather strange fact from my days within the Perfume Industry. I have tried, with professional assistance, to forget everything I ever learned within the world of perfume due to the painful manner in which I was driven out. But at that moment I remembered: celery contains andro-testosterone, a powerful hormone that is released through perspiration and acts as a sort of romance magnet. By eating celery, one releases a higher level of pheromones. Everything was starting to begin to almost make sense, in a way.

I broke my own rule about shoehorning Boom's name into casual conversation, but wondered aloud if my new obsession with celery might perhaps be nature's scientifically magical way of beaming out a kind of "pheromonal beacon" to the love that I lost. Could my beloved Boom be sensing my celery-strengthened scented signal? Could it be? What if? Why not? Can you imagine?*

*The questions raised within this entry are hypothetical as well as being highly personal and are not intended as a conversation starter.