It was a quite different type of Memorial Day this pandemic year. Normally we have people over for a driveway picnic, and there’s lots of cooking and eating going on. Looks like last year we had our driveway picnic on Sunday, and then had indoor hotdogs on Monday.
Sometimes the picnic gets kinda big, 12-15 people or so, and none of that this year. We had two friends over and ate cinnamon rolls and drank Mimosas in the driveway. It was an interesting recipe from Bon Appetit – date puree in the filling replacing some of the sugar and butter, and no butter, vegetable oil instead, in the dough. Almost vegan – it had milk and an egg, but you could sub in non-dairy milk, and maybe some applesauce for those.
I’ve been reluctant to write. Teju Cole told me why, the white experience of this thing is so different. He disses himself a bit as as privileged, too.
Friday I made sourdough.
I made two loaves, to give one to Steve
Kept the little one
Bigger one to give to Steve. His batch didn’t come out, but we swapped anyways. Sounds like they liked the yogurt bucket of cookies I added to the bag with the bread best. Definitely a keeper recipe. I didn’t grind the oats, and used mini chips instead of some chips and some grated chocolate.
I made rhubarb handpies, but way less than other years – only 4
I had leftover cimmy bun for breakfast on Memorial Day
My friend Marion visited my parents grave in Pittsburgh. We think the VFW put up the flags
It’s rhubarb season – in addition to the hand pies, I made cake on Wednesday
And chutney
And cordial – that’s the overleaf.
And back to work Tuesday, oh my god
#thisiswhywekneel and white privilege in the form of Amy Cooper in Central Park.What a dick. And thank you, Audubon Society.
More reasons why my writing feels so flimsy to me.