Last Friday, my friend Emily turned 22. Emily is my poet friend. Literally. She likes to spend evenings with a glass of wine, writing poems. We met because we were both interested in The Pop Culture of Early Modern Europe, one of my favorite class topics at Hopkins. I like witchcraft and charivari and carnivals and all those fun things. Also my favorite childhood story was called Cat’s Carnival. Go figure.
The first food I ever really made on my own was a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I was in my early teens, armed with the back of a bag of Ghiradelli chocolate chips, and definitely used the gas stove to heat the butter so it was warm enough to cream. No adults helped me and I may even have been alone in the house. I ate a lot of creamed butter and sugar before I realized it was a necessary component of the chemical makeup of cookie dough.
They were still quite good cookies and everyone ate them. Because chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven will warm the cockles of anyone’s heart.
I would also consider my cat my best friend. But he’s off in Rhode Island, living the life of a luxuriously spoiled stuffed filet of cat.
My ice cream maker definitely helps when I’m here, without a cuddly beast, and in need of constant entertainment. Also ice cream just tastes damn good, even when its cold out.
elizabakes 