I ran out of vanilla beans & rock sugar.
The porcelain bowls were left with this peculiar mush of bitterness.
An odd sharpness shuddering down into my empty stomach.
My fingers slipped:
I added a pinch too much of regret
&
a tablespoon
of sadness.
One day, airy concoctions that taste like summer memories will flit in and out of the kitchen window.
It's okay, & maybe if I am lucky someone's knee will playfully bump against mine.
Flour on noses & cheeks.
One day.
Starting the cookbook series!
(I don't get the opportunity to cook often, but I plan to do so asap. The first thing I want to cook is creamy pumpkin + garlic bread.)
What do you like to cook?
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