I’m sitting inside a cozy warm apartment on a cold Paris winter day. It’s not too bad with some Kurt Vile streaming into my ears, using space to create movement, engaging a certain monotony that is both appeasing and tense.
As someone who loves creating, finding joy in this repetition is after all the hardest art. To break the unwritten laws that spontaneity is a one-off, that improvisation cannot be planned, that’s where some true pleasure seeps in.
I hosted a gluten-free cooking class in Paris the other day and a gal from California asked me what my “go-to” weeknight meal would be. I kinda laughed to myself, as I said out loud, “I don’t like making the same thing twice,” meaning, there was no one set of meal that I had on repeat. I don’t use recipes when I cook or bake – moreover inspirations from previous dishes to prompt a new creation that will resemble, certainly, a new one to come.
I’m on an oreo kick right now. Perhaps it’s the heat and no air conditioning getting to my head, perhaps it’s the fact that these things are just… delicious. I don’t know, but this recipe is on repeat (times repeat times repeat) in this household. So much so that I have to share. Now. So I can make more to eat.
The fun thing about making your own oreos is, well, I should say: here are the fun THINGS about making your own oreos: Read more
yo yo yo. And a bottle of… wine? It’s time for pasta, that is. Gluten-free.
I just got back from New York, and my it was a jolly change from eating, or trying to eat, gluten-free in Paris. Don’t get me wrong, I would be a bully to complain about living abroad, but there is just something very pleasant about knowing that if you go to a restaurant, you can get something that won’t put you into a digestive coma because of food allergy restrictions.