|
I bake in the noise and chaos of a shared kitchen. We work to an industrial soundtrack. The fluorescent lights and condensers are a base note of white noise. Then the oven comes on, fan whoopwhoopwhooping, slightly off center, and someone throws the switch to the hood. It roars. The dishwasher is a soft-steady beat, like percussion brushes. Objects come together with force: metal clatters on metal, glass tumbles with ceramic, plastic falls with a hollow thump. People call out, mumble, shout. This is likely why kitchens are so often aggressive spaces: our roaring, chaotic soundtrack sends cortisol flooding our brains, hour after hour, day after day, till everything blurs white with the noise. But in the mornings I have the kitchen to myself, quiet except for the static of lights and refrigerators. I hear rain falling down the drain pipe next to my work bench, and sometimes a seagull calling overhead. I hear the garbage truck clunking down the alley. And often I'll set my phone in a metal mixing bowl to amplify the sound and listen to the news. Yesterday morning I was listening to a conversation between Jeremy Scahill and Naomi Klein, a brutal piece on Trump's war on the earth, that left me hopeless and tender. There was no time to step outside and breath through the panic under the open sky, so I thought instead of the mountains. I thought of fairy moss ankle deep under madronas, of the slow spread of lichen over rock, of the sensuous curve of smooth trunk revealed by peeling, papery bark. I thought of the way clouds pile up against the Chuckanuts and tangle with the tops of the islands. I thought of rain on cedar leaves, of nurse logs, of crumbling wood and persistent, tiny trees pushing cotyledon through the duff. Calm spread through me like roots, taking hold. I returned to the rising dough. Today's Market Menu Red & White, Mountain Rye, Smoky Vollkornbrot, Cinnamon Raisin Bittersweet Chocolate & Malted Chocolate Chip Cookies Cardamom Rolls with Rose & Yogurt Glaze Orange Cream Raisin Rolls Granola and North Forest Meringues, little clouds scented with spruce tips and fir. For Wednesday Order Wild & Seedy, Red & White, Mountain Rye Bittersweet Chocolate Cookies (half dz) Pesach Special: North Forest Meringue (half dz) See you soon!
Sophie p.s. Next week, in honor of Easter, I'll be making beautiful braided egg bread (aka challah) and rainbow-sugared marshmallow eggs, so make sure you add a trip to the market into your weekend plans! Comments are closed.
|
BY SUBJECT
All
|