Thunderstruck

She, in her pastel yellow denim, positioned herself in such a way that the diffused sunlight scattered from the disco ball hung at the window swam surrealistically across her back. Her hair, like Ms. Frizzle's, hid from my line of vision, her profile. I then proceeded to lift, from my cake caddie, the boxed lid,… Continue reading Thunderstruck

Casually Pudding it Out

Last year, while in Montreal, I stumbled upon a little patisserie. The floorspace of that mignon location was (my eyes are searching for an appropriate comparison as I write this), no bigger than a couple of my dining room table's surface. It was quite astounding, really, the rate at which baguettes, boules, pain au chocolats,… Continue reading Casually Pudding it Out