Wanna be Startin' Something
Manifest my way out of “the tight, unlovely spot”. But I’m completely out of ideas now, I overdose on alarmist podcasts and playlists instead. Saturn returns to a carbon gray planet. I’m in a tight ball under the sleeping bag duvet. Hours and hours spent like this, anti-manifesting? Believe it will be, act like you already have it, they say. What am I manifesting anyway? Wide open space, room to breath, sunshine once again and an airy, light, and spacious luxury apartment, white marble and gilt edged mirrors and fixtures a-plenty? Floor to ceiling windows with gauzy white curtains that flutter with the breeze, and the feeling of comfort and self-possession, A fluffy feather comforter covered in a white cotton soft wash coverlet with a matching pillow
How weird, how strange, how uncanny that I wake up everymorning at 4:00 on the dot. It is as if though my clock is internally wound to a bakers rythm. My eyes pop open, and any sort of dream or imagining instantly disappears. I stare at the familiar ceiling with its patterns in the cracks and knots and try to remember my dream. The cyclical breath inhale-exhale with a faint gurgle at the end of it. Time to feed the starter. I will make bread. My starter has certainly doubled, possibly trebled. I will make dough. Must get up early to make bread. Delicious bread, bread everybody loves.
My prana is bubbling up, fermenting, frothing up it’s taking over the world.! I take a deep inhale and acknowledge the sharp hit to the nose. Exhale ssssoooouurdough. stretch out, and then curl in and recieve.So much damn starter I don’t know what to do with it, sticky and thick and never letting me go.
And now we are at a boulangerie, we will hit a patisserie next. Why not? We wrote a book and then adapted it for TV, .we went on tour, got a production deal, became a “culinary personailties”. I learned to make dough literally, and figuratively. Not so different from Dinah, a slice off the sourdough I would have to say. haha
Our open kitchen is set in a lofty Paris studio rental, I give myself a flavor challenge a la the old days: recreate a favorite sandwich with local ingredients, not terrible when Paris is my local market! And you should know I spent most of the morning styling it. “Superbe with my second glass of wine” - Darrin. The cheese is a nice sharp creamy roquefort veiny as an old lady’s legs. Artichoke lemon confit fromthe market near the studio. A drizzle of miel, cuz there can’t be two Honey’s in the studio. Yukyukyuk You can take the girl outta vaudeville but you can’t take the vaudeville outta the girl! amirite?
I opened a bakery. There are white cardboard cake boxes tied up in twine, and there’s wax paper sleeves for the sticky hand treats, it’s an open square with worn hardwood floors and sparkly glass paned display cases and a strong coffee vibe. There’s a room in the back; Bash IYKYK cafe, A semi-secret salon. We live upstairs at la Bougieme which graciously contains a jadeite jacuzzi bath tub and a white marble slab top that doubles as a bar. There are dusty corners and spiderweb spangling across the the high ceilings like filigree streamers...
On todays menu @ Bash IYKYK: sourdough sliced thin with a layer of butter and chili paste with crunchy thin sliced pickled asian cukes on top of that, all sprinkled with chopped peanuts.
*Sourdough with peanut butter, honey, and chili flakes.
*Thick Labneh on sourdough blanketed in everything bagel seasoning. It is a Multi-Flavor Tea @ the IYKYK (pronounced ick-yick)
And now I know the answer to the question what would happen if I don’t snap-to at 4:00 am? My starter will froth up, as light as air, unsubstantial, a mistake that needs to be fixed.
But I was gripped tightly by a dream, one I couldn’t rouse myself from, I didn’t want to wake up from. when I landed from the dream the sun was entering the bedroom and spreading itself over the bed and my face, an experience I have not had in a very long time. My Dream: I was in a bakery that looked like my kitchen, There was a secret cafe to the side and the cognosceti gathered round unfamilar but fascinating concoctions, sandwiches and pastry unrecognizable to my eye, the scene was so graphic that I could even smell the sharp rich smell of fresh coffee and—
