Diving in. Face first.

Seeing as my last blog post is the size of a Carmine's plate of penne vodka, I hope to keep this one on the shorter side. So, for the record, I'm trying.

I've been reading this book on food writing (yes, there are books just about writing about food) called Will Write For Food (witty, eh?) that I hope will aid me in my ongoing quest for culinary stardom. The author suggests these silly little exercises at the end of each chapter and I thought I would share a few that I have done with you.

A.) Completing these sentences:

The donut smelled stale, like... the wafting odor of a beer sitting by a California pool mid-August, having been forgotten by its tipsy owner.

The roast beef sandwich tasted as though... it was slaved over by a Jewish grandma who lovingly tells you to call her Babushka as she piles the salty meat and the creamy cole slaw higher than anyone’s mouth could ever fit.


B.) Describing eating your favorite piece of fruit:

The Santa Ana winds were particularly strong as I first bit down into the meaty flesh of the mango. Slicing the skin off half the mango, no silverware in sight, I headed face first into the sunny fruit. My feet were cooling in the pool—I sat at the waters edge, the rest of my body burning. The corners of my lips stung with the tangy kick that follows the birthday cake sweet initial flavor. My cheeks sticky, I sucked the remaining mango pulp that clung to the pit, straggling pieces catching in between my teeth. When I slid down into the water I could still feel the mangoes slippery texture on my tongue while the buttery honey flavor coated my mouth.


Okay, so, first exercise equals weird and funny, second exercise equals corny and sprinkled (okay drenched) with way too many adjectives. Was I eating the mango or trying to have sex with it? Can't wait for the next chapter, perhaps I can somehow work in the Buttercup Bakeshop cupcake I enjoyed today. Using my sister as an excuse for a cupcake field trip, we headed to Buttercup on 72nd to see if an equal to Magnolia could be found so deliciously close to school. I found that, tragically (for my waistline), they can.

I promised brevity, so look forward to a rant on my latest dining foray into the city in my next posting: hurray!