Living in Frames, by meshing the lyrical moments of life with the captured images of experience. This is a reverie, a journey, the fork in the road, and the never-ending story....

Saturday, August 29, 2009

On Baking and Writing

White chocolate and raspberries? Raspberries and white chocolate? For the last three days I have been craving these two items and have been mulling over the many flavor- palate combinations I could come up with. Truffles? Muffins? Cookies?

Baking is my usual excuse for not being productive in other ways, specifically when I am finding myself stuck on a certain storyline. And being so often that I get stuck, I should probably not keep sticks of butter or eggs in the house, so I refrain from digging out the mixing bowls. I know I am definitely not the first writer to enjoy the past-time of cooking or baking and will probably not be the last, but how can I stay focused on plot development, when I am craving blackberry-peach pie?

A friend of mine once described me as, "the skinniest, fat girl" he's ever known. Perhaps he's right. I just love food. Eating it, preparing it, talking about it, even photographing it on ocassion. It's no wonder that little tid-bits of foodie-ism, end up in my writing from time-to-time. Seriously, how can you know anything about a character, unless you know something about what they ingest? Remember health class, "You are, what you eat." Maybe that's the foodies' play on, "I think, therefore I exist"?

There is this great scene in the movie Sylvia, where Edward Hughes takes off for the day, expecting his wife to take advantage of her free time to write. When he returns and sees she has been baking, it transpires a little like this:

Hughes: "You've got to write.
That's what poets do."

Plath: "Yes, well, that's easy for you to say.
You go out for a bike ride and come back with
an epic in hexameters. I sit down to write,
I get a bake sale."

Well, I have to say, she still somehow managed to take our breaths away with her prose and definitely did not die of obesity, from eating one too many sweets. Yet, its still a bit hard to imagine such a tortured soul, wearing a cheery apron and pumping out lines of dark poetry, between apple pies.

A lil' food for thought, I guess.


2 1/2 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 cup butter or margarine, softened
1/3 cup milk
1/3 cup non-fat vanilla yogurt
1 egg
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 cups frozen raspberries
1 cup white chocolate chips or chunks

Don't bother mixing these ingredients together. You don't need scones, no matter how decadent they sound. You have 5 hours of writing ahead of you and shouldn't be anywhere near the kitchen. Pass the recipe on to your mother and hope she is in a baking mood.

RECOMMENDATION: By far, the most inventive and delectable truffles out there:

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