In two years of sharing my food with you, across the interwebs, I’ve come to love the baking photos best:
These are the sweets I keep in a special folder,
quarantined from the riff raff.
sometimes I open my oldest digital photo album, and I find these:
These photos are the first I ever snapped of food that I had made. Looking at them now is a joy. A smile, really.
Mostly because, I think about myself back then- in 2009- working on production of the film “How Do You Know?” in Philadelphia and how fun it was to stay up past midnight day in and day out, baking, so that I could bring a new dessert to set every single day for sixty straight and unrelenting days.
And when I see the flash of my point-and-shoot Canon reflecting on every cupcake, every pie slice, every last styled crumb, I remember how
just down right
beautiful I thought these photos were at the time.
I’m *as proud as my mother on the night I met [and hugged] Leonardo DiCaprio in 2008.
I love that, by staring at these glossies, I can know the start of my food writing. I love that I can see the way I decorated then, the way I’ve changed in years since. I love that I have visual record of how obscene I am. How excessively and eccentrically I live my life- never thinking twice about baking for sixty days straight. Never even pausing to consider whether or not I could possibly run out of sweet ideas.
They’re happy photos.