The highlight of the last month was when my roommate walked in from grocery shopping with a 10kg bag of flour. At the time, it was a commodity rarer than gold.
Losing yourself in baking is meditative, relaxing, and best of all, the end result is delicious and soul soothing. When I found out that my grandparents had eaten an entire loaf of warm homemade bread for dinner a few nights back, I felt proud and relieved. I can all too easily do the same thing. It’s in my DNA.
I had a Hinge (the dating app) boy over for dinner. We ate a delicious Indian-Thai hybrid of a curry: red curry paste, coconut milk, and a medley of Indian spices formed the broth which held asparagus, red peppers, mushrooms, and cauliflower. Served over thick rice noodles with lime and cilantro, I can only assume he liked it since he devoured three bowlfuls. I had baked this banana bread earlier that day, and we were just finishing a piece as my roommate Marianne) and her girlfriend walked in. Greetings were exchanged with much enthusiasm, and as he watched Marianne cut herself a slice he proclaimed how incredible it is, how he would have eaten more had he any room left in his belly, and that she was going to love it, LOOOOOVEEE IT.
My dad’s birthday was celebrated in a cozy Mexican restaurant as my friend’s band strummed out dynamic Latin songs. I brought this cake for dessert and the plate was all but licked clean by my parents, our friends, and the restaurant staff.