I’m not a baker. It’s not my thing. I don’t like to measure or follow instructions. When I’m not developing recipes, you won’t find me with a measuring cup in hand or a baking scale under foot (is that not how baking scales work? Weird). It’s cumbersome to have to be so meticulous. I come from a long line of people who write recipes with the precise measurements of “just put some soy sauce” or “use a few glugs of oil”. I was raised inside of a wild and free kitchen culture. So, as you can imagine, I don’t like to feel the weight of science on my shoulders as we anticipate, with bated breath, to see if gluten-free brownies are going to rise. Baking is one thing, and gluten-free baking is a whole different more complicated (and sometimes frustrating) animal. You know what I’m talking about, right? Maybe you recently went gluten-free and you decided to google a recipe for bread. You are met with approximately five hundred different types of special order flours–there are many things on this list you didn’t know could even be made into a flour: Chestnuts. Sorghum. Teff. Eye of Newt. Xanthan Gum. Crickets. Unicorn Shoulder. In short, it ain’t always easy. I see you. I hear you. We are one. […]
This morning I was startled awake by the heinous loud beeping of the carbon monoxide detector. My heart began pumping quicker, signaling to me that we probably needed to evacuate the house before submitting to a gas induced death. I jumped out of bed. I tried to think about where the cat carrier was. I found the dog sleeping on the couch, unimpressed by my antics. I put on shoes. I did not put on a bra. I grabbed my cell phone. These are the actions that I took in a very sleepy and very confusing emergency. I texted my husband, in a calm fashion. I was instructed to climb an it’s-too-early-for-this-$hiz-step-ladder and press a button that said “SILENCE”. As it turns out, the carbon monoxide detector was simply malfunctioning. Phew. In celebration that I would not be evacuating my home, and would in fact live to see the afternoon, I passed out into a deep sleep still wearing a questionable pair of crocks. I only know that I wore my crocks to bed because I woke up with them off and under the covers. It’s confusing to wake up with a rubber clog negotiating its way into your backside. […]
So, I hear the Super Bowl is going to be happening on Sunday. I’m going to be honest with you and let you know that I have no idea who is playing, and very little understanding of Football itself other than the obvious “CLEAR EYES, FULL HEARTS, CAN’T LOSE!”–You know, those Friday Night Lights feels. Texas Forever. Coach Taylor. Jason Street. Riggins. QB ONE! Ok, those aren’t really sentences, but rather just me blurting out names. Cool. Cool, cool. […]
I think I’ve been avoiding words.
For months I have been making eyes with a very shut computer, unable to crack the lid of my laptop and type. I’ve buried myself deep into distractions, watching the hours count down, watching the sun go down, waiting for inspiration, waiting to feel like I’ve something to say. Days slipped by as I felt unsettled and restless. Why can’t I write? I would move my body into the kitchen and go through the cupboards, trying to find some inspiration there. Just make something–a nudging whisper from my internal voice, barely audible. […]