Browsing Tag

fruit

Apple and Rose Pie & Buttermilk Honey Custard Pie with Lavender and Crème Chantilly

Apple and Rose Pie & Buttermilk Honey Custard Pie with Lavender and Crème Chantilly

“June and I have paid with our souls for taking fantasies seriously, for living life as a theatre, for loving costumes and changes of selves, for wearing masks and disguises. But I know always what is real. Does June?” – Anaïs Nin, December 30, 1931

The past few weeks have been spent in a turbulent state of desire and upheaval. My mind is thriving elsewhere. That’s for sure. I doubt it will ever arrive. I’ve never felt whole in any one place. It’s like this hybrid, this disassociated fragment of myself that I never could quite control, exists in an entirely different world. And then comes the night.

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Black Plum, Fig and Berry Pie with Brown Butter Oat Streusel

Black Plum, Fig and Berry Pie with Brown Butter Oat Streusel

“I elect something I can love and absorb myself in it.” – Anaïs Nin, Winter, 1931

February, my month of thwarted longing and despair. The dark days, the rainy days. The lucid dreams and wild silence. It felt like an eternity of feelings abandoned. Unwillingly becoming serenaded whilst the nocturnal melodies of mind trembled with the longing for somewhere else, someone else. You see, I fall easily. Feel easily. I’ve forged an entire career out of feeling too much. And in that moment, all needs become secondary. I lose, lose, lose myself. I have no desire for anything other than the thing that has it’s knuckles to my throat. And I accept it. And I live with it. And I wait for it pass. Until the next thing comes.

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Dark Chocolate and Raspberry Cake with Earl Grey Swiss Meringue Buttercream

Dark Chocolate and Raspberry Cake with Earl Grey Swiss Meringue Buttercream

“Between my sleeping and dreaming, Between me and the one in me who I suppose I am, A river flows without end.” – Fernando Pessoa, from ‘A Little Larger Than The Entire Universe: Selected Poems.’ 

A Dark Chocolate and Raspberry Cake with Earl Grey Swiss Meringue Buttercream for Valentine’s Day. As much as I love to create sweet things for the aforementioned date, I have never been one to celebrate the exhausted tradition. Probably because my beliefs on love and intimacy are so far removed from the ideals that the corporate world stemmed. But, here I am. Once again. The same fragmented girl as the one several moons ago, white-hot with exuberant gilded swan song. Like the most precious thing, untainted thing. Again, smoking with desire. But a desire no longer for the bitterness of exterior flesh, rather an endless hunger for eternal understanding of the human heart.

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Black Tahini Buns with White Chocolate and Orange

Black Tahini Buns with White Chocolate and Orange

Love is a rose. Every petal an illusion, every thorn a reality.” – Charles Baudelaire, ‘Les Fleurs du Mal’

I haven’t been in the mood to write lately. I think there’s a part of me that’s vexed by how much of myself I choose to put into each work. Writing a post requires a melangé of inspiration. And when I can, I take all that’s inside and weave it into obscure, mangled words, just as obscure and mangled as the far wailing walls of my mind. And right now, I’m coming up short. It’s never been that way with baking though. Baking is natural, just as natural as deep breath and even deeper hunger. It’s easy to dream in sweet combinations, cake layers and flavour. And when it isn’t there, I don’t force it. But to write, well, that’s a different story in its entirety

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Matcha, White Chocolate and Pear Muffins with Almond Streusel

Matcha, White Chocolate and Pear Muffins with Almond StreuselMatcha, White Chocolate and Pear Muffins with Almond Streusel

“Gone, gone again is Summer the lovely.” – Edna St. Vincent Millay, from Collected Poems; Song.

It’s Spring, flirting with heavy elements of Summer and few of Winter. Some days hot, some cool. Never an in-between. I’ve always thought that Spring was a rather fickle season. It’s the hardest change to observe. I can pick the indescribable scent of summer, the heat, the smell of the  ocean – the days long. It feels like sunshine, the world pulsating and alive. I can feel the crisp breeze of autumn, the fall and rustle of leaves, life beginning to turn towards hibernation. And I definitely can feel the bitter chill of winter, stagnation and first frost. The night looming with every passing moment.

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Fleur d’Oranger Caramel Apple Pie

Fleur d’Oranger Caramel Apple PieFleur d’Oranger Caramel Apple Pie

Life is not so much invented as composed” – Peter Pereira from ‘What’s Written on the Body: Ravenna at Dusk’

8 months, max no more than 14. It’s my instinctual timeline of transformation, like unmeditated clockwork of mind happening between and only, those months. Usually it’s something minor, learning a new language, changing my prop collection, ordering an excessive amount of cookbooks. This time, it’s something slightly more prolific.

I threw out my things, I bought new things. I redecorated my room, again. It’s starker than minimal and in shades of grey and white. Elements of Scandinavian style, slight Japanese too. I discarded old furniture in the desire for blank space. I learnt to want for few things, but great things – like a Rick Owens marble bed. I’ve always wanted a Rick Owens marble bed. I bought another Pentax and re-organised cosmetics, discarding the ones that weren’t organic, vegan and packaged in aesop-styled attire.  

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