“Now she went blossoming over her blood, and her blood went rushing deep beneath her.” – Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Book of Images, “The Saint” (translated by Edward Snow).
These bars came about after I had an overflow of near-spoiled plums last week. I originally wasn’t going to post them. Sometimes there are things that I want to save all for myself. Not out of selfishness or indulgence, but rather, when you bake professionally, often, and for others, it’s good to keep something solely for you and your own sacred desire once in a while. I don’t do it enough. I wonder what it tastes like.