“your face remains close to the ground” by Sasha in the bedroom

Sunday June 14, 2020
7:02am
5 minutes
Inmate of Happiness
Elizabeth Metzger

Annie orders extra plates of things when she goes on dates. Because why not. Because she deserves the smoky eggplant dotted with pomegranate jewels. She must taste the pickled carrots on a bed of yogurt and mint. She wants to see this almost-stranger’s face as they dip a triangle of warm fresh pita into silky hummus. She orders with confidence and curiosity, unafraid to try the dishes on the menu that might be skipped over. Tripe, liver, chicken feet, mousses, raw beets shaved into snow. She is kind to wait staff, asks them their name and how they are and listens deeply to their answer. She knows what she wants. This adds inches to her beauty and shimmer to her glow. If you saw Annie walking down the street you might not notice the fullness of her presence, but if you are lucky enough to dine with her, you will be as enraptured by the depth of her noticing as you are by the spread. She has an impeccable palate, whispering, “is that sumac?” Or, “Saffron! Saffron and raisins!”

“cinnamon, cardamom and ginger” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Monday, November 26, 2018
7:18am
5 minutes
A recipe for apple muffins

Baking helps me understand why some people like math. You buy good ingredients, you measure these ingredients, you preheat the oven, you stir, you blend, you incorporate, you get to the bottom of the bowl, maybe you even try to save on a few unnecessary steps or dishes, but that’s it, nothing more. The recipe is the container and it holds you. Follow it, and you’re (almost) guaranteed to have a house that smells good and something delicious. There aren’t variables in math (or, are there?!) and there are variables in baking, but not big ones.

“I really cannot tell you with what it was filled” by Julia at Queen and University


Wednesday, July 31, 2013
2:47pm
5 minutes
Kwaidan
Lafcadio Hearn


I will try with every single ounce of my strength to recall to you what was in that delicious, light, and flaky pastry, but I’m sorry, when you eat something that is as magnificent as this gift from, quite literally, heaven up above, you find it a little difficult to…OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH. Sorry. I did just get a reminder of how unbelievable it was. As you can see, pastries are my weakness. My Achilles’ heel! I was just thinking about it again and I couldn’t even stop to tell myself to stop because it was just so freaking mouth watering. I’m sorry. I’ll try again. It had a custard….OOOOOOOOH! It was french, and I know it, because I have tasted so very many of them, and it was creamy, and rich, and I…..I’m sorry. This has never ever been an easy subject for me to talk about. I’m actually getting…oh no….emotional….I didn’t mean for it to…overcome me this way. It’s just when I get to the filling, my brain goes into overdrive and my heart just pounds for mercy. Let me out! It screams. My heart, of course, as it feels like a caged animal being kept from the wild even though it’s the worst possible thing for an animal of that nature! I WOULD SAY IT WAS JUST A REGULAR FILLING BUT THAT WOULD BE A LIE.