The other morning I woke up to three very ripe bananas hanging from the hook on the far left of my utility stand in my kitchen. I watched them for days, moving from green to perfectly ripe. Eventually they became speckled with spots and then, finally, covered in brown with no prayer to be eaten. I truly had intentions to eat one
Read MoreWhen the mood strikes and I want to bake I have no choice but to apron up and turn on the oven. There’s something about gray days and time spent in my tiny Queens apartment that warrants baking and a vibrancy that can only come from making a cake from scratch. Gone are the days where I wouldn’t bake because I feared eating the whole damn thing.
Read MoreWhen I was growing up and still, to this day, my mother makes a carrot cake that is to die for. As a child I would sneak slices in the middle of the night while no one was watching; it was just me, my carrot cake and Arsenio. I imagined I’d one day make it on my own, that I wouldn’t have to eat it alone in secret or in shame and that day came.
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