there's crumbs on the bench a thin-framed tray cooling fresh cookies from the stove. a swipe of a damp sponge clears away the crumbs, leaving clean. the cookies go cold left out too long and only just staying soft. they are still good, with a subtle tang of orange when bitten. someone ventures… Continue reading crumb + cold + playful
plates balanced on the kitchen bench, each one loaded with freshly-baked goods. phone recharging by the appliances, out of place, streaming YouTube. cutlery's fine edge glistens under the light, waits for audience's use.
a bit of butter sizzles across the frying pan: step one's progress. add sugar, sleekly packed into a measuring cup, mix well - step two. fresh-baked cookies cool on racks: heaped into baskets as apology.
prompt here. Music hummed through the kitchen in time with the knife on the board, citrus being expertly sliced. Half, quarter, eighths... Rick swept the fruit wedges into a bowl and selected a fresh one, swapping the knife for a zester. Thin ribbons of green piled up in the bowl as he worked, releasing the perfume into the air. … Continue reading In the Kitchen
It has been two months since I last encountered Penelope. The last I heard from her, it was on a postcard declaring that she and Andrew had to move to another city for reasons she didn't elaborate. So far it's been peaceful. There haven't been any unexpected drop-ins with cake, or books, and Jim from… Continue reading The Faux Landlords’ Empire
My irresistible food is a home-baked something. It might be bread that Mum makes - so good that I refuse to eat store-bought stuff, disdaining it as generic and boring - or my own baked cupcakes. Because this way I know precisely what is going into my food. I might experiment a bit with the… Continue reading Home-Baked Goods, Please