Quality of touch

I’m thoroughly enjoying watching a team of six fellas prep for dinner at Woodlot on Palmerston. Meat man touches the meat and cuts it but each touch knows more than any touch I’ve had on meat. Pushing and squeezing bits of it, and talking a boastlooking mile a minute it’s a posture you see elsewhere without the prop correlative. There’s another fine touch that’s gone through the radiccio and is now muscling up a cured meat. Third pair of hands is cutting pasta having first lowered the heavy cloth of it through the machine. Testing the dried pieces on racks, measuring them out in rows. Three other bodies prepare behind the obstructed view of the kitchen counter. It is good television to watch this kitchen dance.

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