At least you have the past—I needed more than that
I had a rough night and very little sleep, but several nice things happened in the course of the day.
I had a bagel with sturgeon for lunch. It was accidentally made with cream cheese instead of its proper butter, but it was substantial and decadent all the same. I can't remember the last time I had smoked sturgeon. I think I was in New York. This one came from Mamaleh's. I want another one—with butter—soon.
I Zoomed with the mongeese, otherwise known as my godchild and their age-mate houseguest from the UK. They share the kind of high-explosive energy that caused me and![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
selkie to start humming "20 Tons of TNT." Once they left the conversation, I heard faint noises filtering through the screen that I thought were artifacts until I was informed the youth were experimenting with musical instruments in the basement.
I made spice krinkles from The Essential New York Times Cookbook (2021) with my mother. They turn out to trace to a late eighteenth, early nineteenth century recipe that I would love to see the original of—the current form is heavy on the molasses, the cinnamon and ginger and cloves, and the dusting of white sugar on top that cracks magmatically in the baking. They looked ridiculous in the oven and tasted just as good out of it. I took a picture because they came out so beautifully that I started laughing.
Late in the evening there was a scarcity of cat litter and I found myself inside a supermarket for the first time since last spring. I wouldn't call it a nice thing exactly, but I was successful in my quest and took the opportunity to collect a number of staples for the human side of the household as well as a couple of treats. The experience of browsing up and down the aisles was sufficiently unfamiliar as to feel, especially at night under the Kubrick fluorescence, almost science-fictionally unreal. I miss museums. I miss bookstores. I miss eating in restaurants. I miss movies in theaters. I miss walking through cities without thinking about it. It is not enough to want to pretend that everything is normal again.
I had a bagel with sturgeon for lunch. It was accidentally made with cream cheese instead of its proper butter, but it was substantial and decadent all the same. I can't remember the last time I had smoked sturgeon. I think I was in New York. This one came from Mamaleh's. I want another one—with butter—soon.
I Zoomed with the mongeese, otherwise known as my godchild and their age-mate houseguest from the UK. They share the kind of high-explosive energy that caused me and
selkie to start humming "20 Tons of TNT." Once they left the conversation, I heard faint noises filtering through the screen that I thought were artifacts until I was informed the youth were experimenting with musical instruments in the basement.I made spice krinkles from The Essential New York Times Cookbook (2021) with my mother. They turn out to trace to a late eighteenth, early nineteenth century recipe that I would love to see the original of—the current form is heavy on the molasses, the cinnamon and ginger and cloves, and the dusting of white sugar on top that cracks magmatically in the baking. They looked ridiculous in the oven and tasted just as good out of it. I took a picture because they came out so beautifully that I started laughing.
Late in the evening there was a scarcity of cat litter and I found myself inside a supermarket for the first time since last spring. I wouldn't call it a nice thing exactly, but I was successful in my quest and took the opportunity to collect a number of staples for the human side of the household as well as a couple of treats. The experience of browsing up and down the aisles was sufficiently unfamiliar as to feel, especially at night under the Kubrick fluorescence, almost science-fictionally unreal. I miss museums. I miss bookstores. I miss eating in restaurants. I miss movies in theaters. I miss walking through cities without thinking about it. It is not enough to want to pretend that everything is normal again.
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I'm glad for the good things in your day.
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We were not expecting them to crack, for lack of a better word, so professionally! I checked on them at the eight-minute mark (still too soft, needed the full ten minutes to be crisp-topped and chewy) and was just amazed.
(Now if you had a glistening icing, you could put it between those cracks as a kind of kintsugi.)
I don't know that I would survive that much sugar, but it would look incredible. I wonder if one could do it with edible gold leaf.
I'm glad for the good things in your day.
Thank you.