My Brain On Vertigo

Flourless Peanut Butter Blossoms
with Dark Chocolate and Torched Marshmallow
(Or, Stoner’s Delight III*)


When I was 12 years old, I became convinced I was going to die before I reached college. The idea presented itself in a dream and that was all the prophecy I needed. Thinking that it was my truth, I held my secret close; no one would understand. I reached driving age and still hadn’t died, so I delayed getting my license for a year; a car accident seemed like a reasonable way for a 16-year-old to go. That’s why I still hate driving.

Years later, I now fear the opposite—I fear that I’m cursed with never-ending life. I’ve had too many scares to still be here and my body constantly surprises me with how strong it is, so I must be immortal. This is a much scarier truth.

These irrational thoughts on my own mortality were going through my head as I sat on the floor of my cubicle at work on a Saturday, Halloween, two weeks ago, my knees clutched tightly against my chest, the pulsating beats of my music reverberating violently against my tympanic membrane; like when I have migraines, I was trying to drown out the hollow white noise of my own between-the-ear nausea. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I kept the trash near me in case of emergency, and I just sat there, alone, turning up the volume every so often until I feared my eardrums would burst.

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Control

Pumpkin-Almond Cake


Luckily for me, cooking and baking always seem fresh. The start of a new project — whether it be constructing a multilayered cake or just getting breakfast on the table in the morning (or, rather, in a pack for the train) — feels a little different every time; it’s like a break from the reality of that day, that moment. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been actively interested in cooking for several years; I will always be mystified, humbled by the way flour, butter, and water make layers of flaky pastry and even how just a ½ teaspoon of mustard can emulsify two competing forces — oil and acid — so seamlessly. The fact that I know the science behind these things doesn’t make them any less wonderful; the process feels new and beautiful every time.

Despite this, I have this annoying need to tinker. A neurotic tick. (This probably doesn’t come as a surprise.) I cannot leave well enough alone. Not just in the kitchen. I’ll look back at the bed I made several times, smoothing out the wrinkles, tightening the corners. It’s a way to regain control when life seems so very out of control. It’s a way to make everything a game, make the mundane fun. With food, it’s more about that second point. When I use a cookbook recipe, I usually find myself saying things like, “hmm, that sounds great, but it’ll be too sweet; how much sugar can I subtract before my measures affect browning and coagulation?” or “ooo, that flavor combination sounds lovely — but it would be even better with y instead of x.” For fun. To learn. And I usually like what happens. I liked lining the bottom of this cream tart with white chocolate that I caramelized. I liked coming up with variations on these delicious bites.

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Shortages

pumpkin whoopie pies with cream cheese filling

Fall is such a fabulous food season. In the heat of the summer, when farm-fresh zucchini, tomatoes and berries flourish, it’s easy to forget how soul-satisfying root vegetables are or how fragrant a fresh pear is. We get something in return for everything we give up, though. The juicy bite of a peach is traded for the crunch of an orchard apple and the tang of a buttermilk cake is swapped for the warmth of a spice cake (or an apple cider donut). This Fall, like a few in the past, though, we may experience a pumpkin shortage. And while representatives of my favorite canned pumpkin brand, Libby’s, assures that the orange stuff will be showing up on supermarket shelves soon, I’ve already started biting my nails. Although other varieties have a spot in my local markets, Libby’s will always be my pumpkin of choice.

What also begins with a “P” and is similarly scarce this season? Peanuts. So peanuts don’t conjure up any warm and fuzzy Fall thoughts, but they are equally essential to my cooler weather diet. I always have peanuts on hand, but my true vice is my peanut butter addiction. The disease is not uncommon, but I am one of its most hopeless victims. A peanut shortage has sent the price of peanut butter up and could really cramp my style. Many nights, I revel in dunking my spoon into the salty stuff before digging into some vanilla ice cream, the refrigerator light alone guiding my bite. And you thought I was a food snob? Au contraire! Ok, so maybe it’s organic peanut butter and homemade ice cream or Häagen-Dazs at the very least, but come on.

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