"There are times when a feeling of expectancy comes to me, as if something is there, beneath
the surface of my understanding, waiting for me to grasp it. It is the same tantalizing sensation
when you almost remember a name, but don't quite reach it."
~ from The Journals of Sylvia Plath, 1950 - 1962
Sunday, August 16
Sunday, May 17
I've spent too many costly sympathies on an ill fated Ophelia and spun too many broken, unfulfilled yearnings into The Lady of Shalott's loom. For once, I would like to live, to write...to be uninhibited. Mornings & spring are heavy with promise, and something far more dangerous, hope. There's a fleeting, blissful moment when I first wake up; the tree outside my window is lush with foliage, the sun is bathing my no-longer-flannel sheets and, best of all, the worries & burdens & what ifs have not yet burst through the confines of my tranquil mind. If only I could hold onto that serenity and wear it like a bee-sting necklace, infusing frozen, distraught veins with a doses of halcyon weather, as needed.
"When I start to think, I freeze. And when I freeze I write like a lady who came from a clean, honorable, intelligent and quiet home. And what sort of writing is that?"
~ Martha Gellhorn, from Selected Letters
This post & its photos have been waiting for me to (re)find myself; my own authenticity. I'm too easily disappointed. When lofty plans & far-fetched wishes tumble to the ground, I tend to retreat inward and wallow a bit too long in a state of melancholy. This blog is not immune to my occasional bouts of despondency. But that part of me IS a part of me. After 30 + years, I'm beginning to accept that I'll always be 'sometimes' moody, but maybe I can tap into the depths and turn a sorrow that's sprung from lost grasps at imagined perfections, into an untamed savage beauty. (My mother is half Irish, after all.) I'm still organically lost and hunting through the overgrown moss-green forest of my (as of late) unkempt mind, but I this site is my child and it's been neglected far too long. And however fanciful, I'm still holding a candle for Tom Hiddleston (even through choppy, rumor-filled waters). There are perks to the idiosyncrasies of being a practical idealist.
Monday, March 16
I'm still guilty of neglecting my blog, yet I can't come up with a valid excuse. My thoughts, which have been buried + scattered across the months of January & February, are slowly thawing. I'm trying to process the fact that it's actually warm enough to gently *pry* open my bedroom window at night. After a lengthy absence, it's hard to know where to (re)start. My writing voice is filled with an assortment of plump little winterling birds, each one longing to fly out and test the warm ambiance (at last!) of March. I can't release them all at once so I'll start with the quiet ones and gradually work my way up to the brash confidence of squeaky wheels.
"The pearls weren't really white, they were a warm oyster beige, with little knots in between
so if they broke, you only lost one. I wished my life could be like that, knotted up so that even
if something broke, the whole thing wouldn't come apart."
~ from 'The White Oleander' by Janet Fitch
Today I'm sharing a sweetly simple recipe for maple walnut peanut butter cookies. Simple because unlike most cookies, you won't have to suffer the agony of chilling dough. They are also flourless. I'd label them gluten free but, being relatively unfamiliar with the gf world, I'll err on the side of caution. I enjoy peanut butter much too much, a jar of the good stuff will only last about a week in my cupboard. As soon as I arrived home with my beloved maple madness peanut butter, I whipped up these tender little gems. Feel free to omit the walnuts & chocolate, if you prefer. While both additions gave the cookies a pleasant nubby texture, I think they almost masked the peanut butter's maple flavour.
Monday, March 2
Once again I find myself tumbling swiftly through 2015 without a clock or parachute. Winter has been an absolute lion this year, its frigid, gigantic paw planted firmly on my shoulder, holding me in a frozen state of lethargy. Icy fingertips & drafty kitchen, I've simply been too busy to procure the required space of time to bake + blog. Thank goodness for (heroic!) fellow food bloggers. I'm elated to introduce you to Nik, from the exquisite A Brown Table.
Nik's food photography is stunning. He captures the perfect mood of each ingredient and makes the process of baking (and cooking) a work of art. I also love the fact that his recipes are unique and often include helpful hints & photos. If you're new to his food blog, I'm sure you will be immediately smitten, too!
Thank you so much for helping me keep my blog afloat, Nik. She's all yours... xoxo
Friday, February 6
"Decadence: where the tasty and the unsavoury, the harmful and the delightful are no longer discernible from one another."Oh hello again, everyone. The holiday season left in flurry of wind & salt. It slammed the door (with its typical jubilant-yet-oblivious manner) and left a mess of strewn confetti & unfulfilled expectations in its wake. I'm never prepared for Christmas, but I find I'm even less equipped for its abrupt departure. The breathless excitement felt at the top of a December's Ferris wheel makes January's plunge all the more grey & vacant. In an effort to soften last month's harsh edges, I decided to take a break from blogging. I simply wanted to bake for the sake of baking. My camera took refuge on a cosy pile of photo prop linens and we both enjoyed an unspoken truce. I'm sorry that I didn't announce my absence...it was a flight of fancy and I did not want to tarnish a rare act of spontaneity by over-explaining the motive behind it. An elephantine Thank You to everyone who inquired about my lack of posts (it's lovely & humbling to know they were missed!). xoxo
~ Wieki Somers
This cake made me blissfully silly, again, & it reawakened my blogging nerdiness. It's embarrassing how many photos were taken (all while listening to an idiosyncratic mix of Tom Waits & the Amélie soundtrack). At first glance the recipe appears dramatic & lengthy but, if you take on each component individually, it's completely approachable. The cake is an experience. It's devastatingly rich...beyond anything I've ever made. I will have euphoric dreams about this cake for a very long, long time.