I cook to discover.

I think it was Flannery O’Connor who wrote “I write to discover what I know.” As a writer, that rings true. But more often this summer, I’ve found a great appreciation for the art of food.

An idealist some of the time, I try to construct histories and narratives of objects, faces, and places to bring me to my present state. All this is too complicated for a college girl wanting rest her brain over the summer months. Well, I’ve decided to ground my self in something as simple: cooking.

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It did not take me long to realize how much of a mistake that statement is. “Simple” and “cooking” should not be in the same sentence. All the more “simple” and “baking.”

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After sunken soufflés and popped profiteroles I opted for no lesser a difficult feat: la galette.IMG_7816

Fold, fold, fold. Pleat, pleat, pleat. And suddenly it had been three hours. Three hours filled with French Cafe music and twirling around the kitchen while knocking over flour and teaspoons.


I wouldn’t call myself a master baker. But I’m damn well proud of myself for making this piece of provincial yumminess. In any case, I had a blast. I tuned out from the world for a good three hours and rocked out to accordions. Sure I am the ultimate nerd, but hey I can make a damn good galette. Here’s to many more floury failures and tiny culinary victories.

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Bon Apétit

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