They’d be a half dozen. One dark chocolate, another peanut butter, a third red velvet, the rest lemon-blueberry–all snapped in plastic, cradled atop both of my arms. I would grip a rainbow of balloons in my right hand, squeezing in my left a raffle prize. Top and center would sit a green T-shirt (a free one at that!) right beside a blue dish of M&Ms, another gift from that evening.
And those cupcakes would have once lined the counters of the attic of the student union on main campus. Like ducks in a row. The smiling kind. They’d witness all sorts of people meeting all different sorts of people. I would make a friend from Nigeria and another from Mexico and another, well, she would be an MPH student. Everyone glancing, contemplating–which flavor would need sampled… again? They’d whisk the cupcakes off to the corner where bowls of M&Ms lined the tables. Across those would sail red crepe streamers under red paper hearts dangling on red strings from the rafters.
Chop chop, slather oil, sprinkle.
One can never have enough cheese. 375 F. Twenty-five-ish minutes.
Zucchini boats = showing off stellar squash!
Homesick. OK. I give up trying to pretend like I can learn in 3 months what a French woman knows after 20 years. The idea struck me on the heels of an incapaciting stomach bug, exasperated by my endless to-do list. I had taken on so much that by the end of October, the time of our trip to Normandy, my body decided to shut down. I don’t blame it. If anyone, I point my finger at my parents and anyone else who encouraged my insanity to forsake family, familiarity, and the following:
1) Mon Kitchenaid me manque. Continue reading
So I am off to Paris for two weeks and a lot of papers. Writing in French is a huge hurdle but so is leaving the south. I have fallen in love with the Tuscan sun and pace…hopefully, the transition to the bustle of NYC’s cousin won’t be ghastly as Sheila would say!
Saying adieu to my little paradise!
Work was a bit long so I decided to set out seven eggs on my counter top. My KitchenAid had not seen the light of day since I began secondary medical school applications and working as a transporter again. But on the morrow was an old friend’s wedding and he happens to be a fan of my (actually David Joachim’s) Skinny Chocolate Chip Cookies. Like my beading and sewing crafts, the project took on its own grandeur adding another couple recipes and a few movies, in French, bien sûr. The whole thing ended in 6 dozen rich chocolate cookies, 9 dozen chocolate chip cookies, some Chardonnay, and light banter with my mother. I don’t know anything better that could be done with seven eggs!
The staple for my summer of all things French= kitchenaid + movie