Oil and Water

     I was recently reminded that my daughter and I are like oil and water; we don't mix.  In another blog, on some other day, I just might address that.  But the wounds from yesterday's battle are still open, raw and bloody.  Still, I am struck by the idea that oil and water can't mix. Perhaps when you pour one into the other, they repel like mother and daughter. I have to wonder: doesn't every good chef use the water from the boiling macaroni to enhance the flavors of whatever might be sautéing in olive oil on the stove?  Lidia does.  Giada does. Nancy does. In my book (cookbook or otherwise) oil and water certainly do mix, match, unite, and sometimes separate and divorce.  Nonetheless they MIX.
     I've heard that olive oil is referred to as "liquid gold." Cleopatra used it to soften her hair and skin. And throughout the hills of Tuscany, the Italian Riviera, and other olive-producing lands, November is abuzz with harvesters.There, families well-equipped with years of experience and family secrets produce the richest tasting extra virgin, if you will; a fruit juice that has the power to roll your eyes permanently to the back of your head with just one perfect teaspoon.  Without water, however, olive groves could not thrive. 
     I'd like to think that one complements the other, much like the tumultuous relationship I have with my daughter. That though we sometimes work together in our pan, simmering, nudging one another, finding our way to the best possible flavor and adding more or less of the needed ingredients, the pan can (and does) get too hot.  That is when the intent is burned, and each must do her part to repair.  Until then, we're stuck with a blackened pot.