Doing My Best Martha Stewart
It's an adolescent dream come true. Forever we were admonished with "If so-and-so told you to jump off the XYZ Bridge, I guess you'd have to do that too?" Quite the allegory as I watch the residents of NYC following our perennially high Mayor off the GW Bridge in his quest to have them shelter in place in perpetuity.
I'm not a joiner. Never have been. However, an article on baking during the CV19 Stupidity convinced me that I have slipped. It appeared in one of the newsfeeds I read and then become nauseous at the overabundance of virtue signaling, mentions of white privilege, and charges of institutional racism . . . all in the Home & Garden section. Seems lots of people have taken up baking. My guess is they've decided it was easier to lay in the barca-lounger (or dust off the mixer) than to go outside and say, "This lockdown no longer passes the smell test."
I've been baking for decades. My great-grandfather, an IMMIGRANT, opened a German Bakery in Mantua, New Jersey at the turn of the 19th Century. Perhaps it's genetic. Maybe I just like pastry.
Since arriving in the Nutmeg State, how appropriate, I've commandeered the kitchen and cranked out cinnamon muffins, regular muffins, banana bread, and a single layer cake with buttercream frosting. I am threatening to make bread, but that would require me to conquer the oddities of yeast, and that ingredient is one of few which escape my expertise.
However, I am sure that the lemmings in New York will continue to walk off the GW Bridge as Bill "The Stoner" de Blasio continues to tell them to do so. Therefore, not going back to Manhattan anytime soon. Ironic, isn't it. For generations parents have been telling children, "Oh I see. So, if Gordie Tannenbaum jumped off the George Washington Bridge, I guess you'd have to do that too."
Looks like we do.
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