I am a baker first, writer second – and what’s baking away in my oven rarely coincides with the words sautéing on the page. In most cases, I’m bustling around my kitchen to escape these very musings. Baking is my art. My kitchen is my studio where I practice and play. At its denouement, my art is devoured, without regret. My passion lies in the crafting, my delight in the sharing. My kitchen is bomb shelter and Band-Aid, my respite when I’m overwhelmed and my surefire reason for procrastination. It’s my voice, my meditation, my recreation and only occasionally my vexation.
Conversely, when I write, I’m tortured; I lash myself to my desk, yearning to be anywhere else, struggling to create order from the chaotic ruminations pacing around my head. I type words to release them from their cage, allowing them to organize and settle into coherent ideas on the page. The process is cathartic, honest and personal, but never easy. It’s an exorcism of sorts.
Born from the same mother, yet conceived in different moods at separate times, my baking and my writing are two distinct children. My baking is my golden child; my writing, the black sheep. I love and need them both, but in different ways. Consequently, and unlike most food blogs, my musings rarely relate to the recipe on the page.
Here, you will never read a 500-word memoir about apple picking as an introduction for my classic apple pie ( link). If this eccentric mashup of a blog bothers you, there are thousands of other food blogs to satisfy your tastes.
Two-Bit Tart unconventionally chronicles what’s in my head and in my oven on any given day. It’s a candid account of my attempts to decipher life through my love of food and words; a window into an imperfect woman and chef chronicling her vices – culinary or otherwise.