Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Baby You're a Firework

Here I am.

Three nights ago I stood, head tilted toward the sky, and watched as fireworks burst in the air above me. The past week and a half has been a flurry of movement. My days have been punctuated with nine plus hours of running around a busy bakery, a few standing meals, and a run whenever I can get an hour to myself. The other night the sky was illuminated with bright pink, green, and orange flashes. Children ran around with slices of cake dyed and layered just so, displaying the red white and blue of the American flag. I was at work. I was at work, and it was the first time in ten days that I truly stopped moving or thinking. My mind was solely focused on the sound, smell, and sight of fireworks.

Fireworks sound like I imagine popcorn would if it was heard in slow motion. They smell like the outside of a toasted marshmallow. The kind of marshmallow that you leave too long amid the flames. Perhaps you are distracted, talking to a friend around the firepit you casually avert your eyes from the crackling inferno. Turning your head a second too long, you realize the now burning briquette on the end of your stick is, sadly, no longer smore material. Fireworks look... like fireworks? They are pretty unique entities. They are beautiful.

I think fireworks probably taste like this cake.

Of course, strawberries can also be consumed like this.

Just add blender. See, I can be healthy.

But really, this cake is fireworks incarnate.

Freshly sliced strawberries, browned butter, and sugar.

Sour cream cake.

Whipped cream, ice cream, cream fraiche, cream anglaise, heavy cream... any form of cream really compliments this cake.

It is like strawberry shortcake.

But better.

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