Call Me Weesh
Sometimes when we hear a specific song from the past, we’re brought back to where we heard it and how the song made us feel in that exact moment. For me, food can have the same emotional “getaway” – reminiscence of where I tasted something indulgent, surprising, comforting. As an adult, I seek foods that give me that same childhood warmth and those that you can’t help but ask, “you know what this reminds me of?”. I revel in those memories – twisting oreos in the elementary school cafeteria, microwaving marshmallows for s’mores with my sister without a fire, putting a poptart in the toaster during Saturday morning cartoons, and bringing a box of Entemann’s pop’ems to our backyard swingset so I didn’t have to share.
My family likes to remind me that I wasn’t always a “foodie” seeking out the newest restaurants and following my favorite pastry chefs on social media. Besides “Weesh”, another nickname of mine growing up was “suspicious foods”, and everything was in fact “suspicious” and too scary to even risk trying. One Thanksgiving at my aunt’s house, I ate only buttered peas and continued to spoon piles of green peas over and over again onto my plate (portions clearly not a strongsuit even then). “I’ll eat something when I see something I like”, I said to my mom – cutthroat yet completely honest as most six-year-olds are. Fig Newtons were the most suspicious of cookies and always a staple in my household – this “healthy” dessert being made of some fruit I knew I had never seen or even heard of. When my tastebuds matured and I was sick of hearing “just try it”, I found my hand dipping into those plastic sleeves more and more. The raspberry newtons quickly became a favorite.
What I make for you may not offer the same nostalgia, but my hope is that you are brought to a familiar place of indulgence, surprise, and comfort. It’s a feeling meant to be shared with others and a reason to celebrate balance in life – a lot of hustle with some fun sprinkled in between. My favorite part of baking is the creation of something for nothing other than pure enjoyment. I can’t help but think of the proud grandmother in Wedding Singer serving her best meatballs: “Now, please… take a bite, so that I can watch you enjoy – that’s my favorite part.” Mine too – thank you for coming by.