Sharing stories of food stories we love.
Full disclosure: My birthday is March 20, and you’re welcome to bake me a cake if you like. I accept vanilla with seven-minute frosting, raspberry mousse layer cake, and anything with passionfruit.
As it is months away from the blessed event, you might say: “Po, really no need to be making birthday cake anything. Just stick with the calendar and lean into fall and bake pumpkin…everything.”
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A few questions for you to mull over today:
Why use one kind of chocolate when you could use two?
What the heck should you do with that half can of leftover pumpkin puree?
Is there a nicer feeling on a cold night than putting on clean pajamas after a hot shower?
A recent post on Cup of Jo talked about simple pleasures: small things that light you up, make you feel comfortable, bring you joy. Her list included kettle chips, getting into clean sheets after shaving your legs, and the grassy waves at Storm King.
The comment section on the post (which numbers over 500!) is beautiful and exceptional and so joy-inducing in and of itself that I’ve promised myself to return to read every single one, bit by bit, whenever I’m in need of a pick-me-up (or just a reminder that life is just brimming with the possibility of beauty at every turn, around every corner).
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This time of year is a favorite of mine. The weather is changing, but only slightly. The air is turning from the warm humidity of summer—the sort that feels swollen and supple and tangible almost—to the crispness of autumn. But it’s still warm enough to wear shorts and sit outside in the sun. Just yesterday I bought two pears and an apple at the farmers’ market, crunching on one as I walked the ten blocks to pick up my car from getting serviced.
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Eclairs always looked so darn fancy to me when I was little. Honestly, they seemed almost too fussy for a five-year-old with an extreme sweet tooth. Give me frosting! Give me an ice cream cone! Give me an entire g-d sleeve of Oreos and leave me alone for 20 minutes! But I like to think I've become far more mature and sophisticated in my ripe old age, and my appreciation for eclairs has deepened.
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