A Home Cook's Journal of Tastes & Morsels
You know, the best things I’ve encountered are unassuming. Perhaps a bit rough around the edges. Dirt-colored pie crust crumbling on its way to a plate. I suppose I have seen many things go unplanned in one direction or another since we met. [It’s been a long time.] And I was thinking- perhaps a trip…
notes on trickery + jack-o-lanterns on oreos: I realized upon waking that I am not the same person. I have lost the parts of me that fit, back then. And I would not describe the loss Ideal, nor would I admit those limbs have not been phantom, but we are different now + i am…
Simple pleasure: Opening the windows at night to let the chill in. Freshly laundered clothing on your freshly showered body. Stopping for brownies on the way home from work. Not setting an alarm for your afternoon nap. The way the sun shines through the blinds over cookie batter. Cozying on the couch to gossip with…
Something is bubbling, somewhere. Hot steam above purple water. Making fuchsia goop. It melts into chocolate, which turns to batter. Then, it’s cake. Somewhere, -between beets and a creme fraiche cloak- it becomes. bakerbakingbeet cakebeetscakechocolatedeliciousdessertfoodfoodieMinneapolisreciperoot vegetablessnack cakesweetsvegetarianyum
Be velvet. Be so softsorichsolush that anything other than love and kind and admiration just turns to space [see: a bulbous spider consumes the trapped within its fibers in an episode of This Is The Other Side] Be sodamnfull it transforms the rest to either nothingness, or smooth sweet cloud cream fluff atop sugar and…
I want the quiet, that slow drip through wet paper. Grounds. The kind of exhale that makes a soft, little noise. It just doesn’t matter very much, really. Sugar and butter make caramel on the stovetop, fragranced with soft drops: tablespoons of lukewarm coffee. You won’t totally notice, really. But it’s there. Pecans and mini…
Ahem. “Sometimes the one who is running from the Life/Death/Life nature insists on thinking of love as a boon only. Yet love in its fullest form is a series of deaths and rebirths. We let go of one phase, one aspect of love, and enter another. Passion dies and is brought back. Pain is chased…
