I’m going to California to see my daughter, son-in-law and cousins, my preferred ocean, and friends who have known me since I was younger than my daughter is now. I pack for happy: four pounds of apples, a vacuum-packed trio of vanilla beans, 10 favorite recipes tucked into a plastic folder. The right size tart pan.
I am going on a bake-ation — my word for any trip that involves good weather and the opportunity to make dessert for friends and family.
This is not my first such outing. I have flown with a loaf of raisin brioche, a stash of sour cherries and some really good chocolate. I have left utensils at my daughter’s house or at a cousin’s. When I buy things I need that they will most likely never use, I try to tuck them into some out of the way place, and they try not to roll their eyes.
This kind of travel can be cumbersome: Apples weigh more than T-shirts and I’ve been known to teeter as I hoist my carry-on into the overhead bin. And it requires vigilance: If I forget to inventory the pantry on arrival, I will end up on a last-minute dash to a little convenience market nearby, the one that charges a two-pound price for a one-pound box of sugar.
On a purely practical level, it’s unnecessary. Bakeries sprout like yoga studios in Los Angeles, where I can buy an impressive array of desserts without ever having to look for a parking space. It’s a 10-minute walk to some of the best pastries in town.
And yet I bake. I’m at the farmers’ market before it opens to walk end to end, looking for inspiration, flirting with the Meyer lemons until I hear the siren call of rhubarb and pick up the scent of strawberries a half-block from my favorite booth.
Store-bought desserts would free up time for something else, you say — but I have learned to read while the pie’s in the oven, answer emails in the 10 minutes before the cookies are done, or imagine and revise a paragraph while I roll out a crust.
Homemade: The exchange rate, effort for pleasure, is excellent.
My mother’s kitchen — make no mistake, the rest of us were interlopers — was more operating room than country inn, and my big contribution involved the supervised loading of the dishwasher. Food was functional. Dessert, if we got it, came in a pink box from Cole’s bakery. The closest I ever got to baking was Pillsbury slice-and-bake cookies under my mom’s watchful eye.
And yet my college rebellion involved inviting the grandparents over for a home-cooked dinner designed to show how cosmopolitan I had become after two years in Ann Arbor, that hotbed of new ideas. I made a quiche, if filling a premade crust qualifies as making a quiche. There must’ve been side dishes, but all I remember is that beautiful quiche, with its fluted crust, and my family’s general skepticism about pie for dinner.
Until they tasted it, that is.
My paternal grandmother was the family baker. I was an adult before I understood that the kitchen was in fact not the largest room in my grandparents’ apartment; I’d distorted the floor plan in my head because the kitchen was the most important room. I still remember my grandmother waking me up one weekend morning, when my sister and I slept over, with a little homemade pastry and a glass of orange juice.
I chased that feeling for years. The writer Malcolm Gladwell famously claimed that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert in a field, and while I haven’t kept a log, trust me. I have conquered the lattice pie crust, and in the process, I think and hope, have made my inner circle feel the way I did that morning. Beloved.
You see where I’m headed. Food is never just about the food.
I like to cook, too, but that’s fire and knives. Baking is a bit more of a mystery with some magic sprinkled in. It’s not essential to survival the way more nutritious foods are, and pious folks disdain all that white sugar, white flour and butter. An elective dish with a whiff of the forbidden; pretty irresistible, if you ask me.
Anyone who bakes knows what I mean. If you want to know what people looked like when they were 5, put a plate of your best dessert in front of them. That’s not a grown-up smile they’re smiling.
And it’s not as if I churn out dessert daily, or even weekly, which is another part of the appeal: it’s occasional, either to acknowledge a special occasion or to make an occasional special, by virtue of there being dessert. A memorable homemade sweet, like the relationships it celebrates, requires time, effort, commitment and an awareness of exactly what might delight the recipient.
So yes, people tease me occasionally about my suitcase full of food — but never to the point that they suggest I stand down.
I flew back to New York with tangerines, since there was room in the case now that I’d used up the apples. I got what I want from any good trip — the opportunity to explore, to try new things, to feel immersed in the location I’ve chosen, and to share some of it with people I care about.
It was a bake-ation that made me feel like I was home.
Karen Stabiner teaches at the Columbia University School of Journalism and is the author, most recently, of “Generation Chef.”B:
六台宝典下载2016开奖“【来】【一】【个】【牛】【肉】【砂】【锅】，【来】【三】【十】【串】【羊】【肉】【串】，【羊】【肉】【串】【不】【要】【辣】【椒】，【再】【来】【五】【块】【钱】【的】【水】【蒸】【饼】，【三】【瓶】【啤】【酒】【欧】【拉】。”【风】【龑】【站】【在】【砂】【锅】【摊】【儿】【摆】【着】【菜】【品】【的】【地】【方】，【虽】【然】【眼】【睛】【一】【直】【没】【离】【开】【那】【一】【盘】【盘】【的】【食】【材】【和】【已】【经】【做】【好】【的】【凉】【菜】【卤】【肉】，【但】【却】【一】【样】【都】【没】【点】。 “【一】【个】【人】【啊】？” “【额】。” “【点】【的】【有】【点】【儿】【多】【吧】？【要】【不】【给】【你】【改】【成】【二】【十】【个】【串】【三】【块】【钱】【的】【饼】？”
【景】【瑜】【道】：“【我】【这】【边】【倒】【是】【赞】【成】【蕙】【嫔】【的】【意】【思】。”【她】【道】：“【皇】【上】【是】【在】【推】【崇】【节】【俭】，【但】【这】【对】【外】【又】【是】【另】【一】【回】【事】，【蒙】【古】【王】【妃】【来】【京】，**【赠】【礼】【若】【是】【寒】【寒】【酸】【酸】【的】，【难】【免】【叫】【人】【瞧】【着】【笑】【话】，【还】【可】【能】【以】【为】【咱】【们】【大】【清】【国】【力】【不】【似】【从】【前】【了】【呢】。” 【说】【了】【这】【话】，【最】【先】【一】【惊】【的】【事】【蕙】【嫔】，【她】【没】【想】【到】【德】【嫔】【会】【想】【着】【她】【说】【话】。 【不】【过】【即】【便】【是】【向】【着】【她】【说】【话】，【也】【没】【什】【么】【所】
“【今】【天】【是】【云】【皇】【后】【的】【生】【辰】，【各】【国】【特】【意】【派】【了】【使】【臣】【给】【云】【皇】【后】【送】【礼】！” 【李】【寻】【猛】【地】【抬】【起】【头】，【看】【向】【占】【据】【了】【大】【部】【分】【街】【道】【的】【车】【架】，【其】【中】【一】【辆】【上】【面】【有】【着】【南】【离】【的】【标】【识】，【他】【一】【眼】【就】【认】【了】【出】【来】。 “【今】【年】【的】【南】【离】【国】【皇】【帝】【还】【是】【这】【么】【大】【的】【手】【笔】，【这】【是】【多】【少】【车】【东】【西】？” 【百】【姓】【们】【都】【跑】【到】【街】【市】【旁】【来】【凑】【热】【闹】，【行】【人】【议】【论】【纷】【纷】。 “【前】【年】【是】【十】【车】，【去】【年】六台宝典下载2016开奖【物】【竞】【天】【择】，【适】【者】【生】【存】。 【以】【什】【么】【为】【食】【就】【决】【定】【了】【其】【在】【食】【物】【链】【中】【层】【次】【的】【高】【低】！ 【自】【然】【界】，【所】【有】【物】【种】【的】【一】【切】【角】【逐】，【其】【实】【就】【是】【食】【物】【链】【高】【低】【层】【次】【的】【竞】【争】，【这】【是】【人】【类】【远】【古】【时】【期】【就】【已】【经】【明】【白】【的】【道】【理】。 【正】【所】【谓】，【食】【水】【者】【善】【游】【能】【寒】，【食】【土】【者】【无】【心】【而】【慧】，【食】【木】【者】【多】【力】【而】【拂】，【食】【草】【者】【善】【走】【而】【愚】，【食】【叶】【者】【有】【丝】【而】【蛾】，【食】【肉】【者】【勇】【敢】【而】【捍】
【公】【仪】【无】【影】【脸】【色】【稍】【霁】，【越】【过】【巫】【晋】【月】【看】【向】【上】【官】【玉】【辰】【的】【眼】【神】【微】【微】【变】【幻】【了】【一】【下】。 【然】，【公】【仪】【无】【影】【的】【脸】【色】【好】【转】，【不】【证】【明】【上】【官】【玉】【辰】【的】【脸】【色】【也】【会】【好】【看】。 【周】【岁】【稚】【子】【解】【开】【九】【连】【环】，【破】【了】【幻】【阵】，【让】【人】【看】【到】【背】【后】【的】【用】【心】，【是】【最】【精】【彩】【的】【一】【幕】，【这】【也】【许】【是】【在】【场】【所】【有】【人】【的】【看】【法】，【但】【这】【所】【有】【人】【竟】【是】【不】【包】【括】【他】【上】【官】【玉】【辰】【的】。 【他】【原】【只】【是】【想】【给】【即】【将】【分】【别】
【黄】【昏】【的】【山】【岗】【上】，【一】【个】【红】【衣】【人】【负】【手】【而】【立】。 【一】【缕】【山】【羊】【胡】【黑】【着】【胡】【根】、【白】【了】【胡】【稍】，【剑】【眉】【斜】【飞】、【双】【鬓】【斑】【白】，【他】【那】【目】【瞳】【一】【定】【的】【时】【候】，【犹】【如】【两】【道】【寒】【光】【从】【眼】【眸】**【而】【出】。 【日】【暮】【的】【血】【阳】，【是】【一】【天】【中】【最】【大】【最】【殷】【的】【时】【候】，【血】【阳】【落】【入】【远】【处】【黑】【山】，【被】【遮】【的】【那】【一】【瞬】，【红】【光】【似】【乎】【折】【了】【过】【来】，【衬】【得】【红】【衣】【人】【的】【双】【唇】【腥】【烈】。 【倏】【忽】【间】，【又】【起】【风】【了】，【纷】【乱】
【一】【骑】【绝】【尘】【自】【东】【而】【来】，【黑】【衣】【银】【枪】【直】【入】【锦】【蓉】【城】【无】【人】【阻】【拦】。【快】【马】【直】【至】【西】【蜀】【王】【府】【前】，【王】【府】【里】【快】【步】【走】【出】【来】【两】【个】【仆】【人】，【一】【个】【牵】【马】，【一】【个】【拿】【枪】。 【独】【孤】【傅】【下】【马】【问】【道】：“【王】【爷】【可】【是】【已】【经】【回】【来】【了】？” 【扛】【枪】【仆】【人】【立】【即】【回】【应】【道】：“【回】【将】【军】【的】【话】，【王】【爷】【昨】【夜】【便】【同】【南】【宫】【公】【子】【回】【来】【了】。【王】【爷】【平】【安】【无】【事】，【只】【是】【那】【位】【南】【宫】【公】【子】【一】【身】【的】【血】，【但】【脸】【色】【看】【起】【来】