Oh 2020. Somehow in a haze of masks, bad behavior and a weird casserole of neverending days and days like shooting stars, we have landed at the countdown to Thanksgiving. This is my 20th year baking professionally for Thanksgiving. Were I anyone but me, I could present you with a graph of the increase in orders every year. But I am deathly allergic to graphs, spreadsheets and all other forms of data that don’t use a notebook and perfect pen. (There was an ad on NPR the other day for a new company where you can upload data WITHOUT spreadsheets, and I instantly wanted to send the company flowers and a giant chocolate cake!)
For my number nerds out there, I do promise to give the actual numeric quantities of dispatched pies and cakes this Thanksgiving. I didn’t last year and some people were ANNOYED.
I want everyone to order a copy of 100 Dresses. Yes, it was written in 1944 but it is a little book that I think EVERY child and adult needs to read. (If you click on 100 Dresses it will take you to purchase link. I never tell you guys to buy anything here but this one is important!) This book drives home how important art, patience, the art of shut-uppery and imagination are to basic happiness.
Wayne Thiebaud is an American painter best known for his still lifes of edible treats and everyday objects in his singular illustrative style. His most popular subject matter includes colorful cakes, slices of pie, candy pieces, such as lollipops, and the winding streets of San Francisco. This genius of a man turned 100 this week and HE STILL PAINTS. He created many of his masterpieces using the same technique bakers do while frosting cake. I, of course, love that. But his paintings are such a range of vivid or stark, whimsical or graphic, do yourself a favor and go down the rabbit hole of internet searching his work and THEN drive yourself to the Cameron Art Museum and see some of his works IN PERSON. It is enchanting. Go go go!!!!
Today is the day I spoon up 400 pounds of fruitcake batter. It is always, as they say, a red-letter day. It’s like a bowl of jewels, granted an 80 quart bowl, but sparkling nonetheless. One day, I am going to make a massive fruitcake sculpture, just because I can.