Parisian Whoopie: An Ode to Playing with Your Food

Today I made no demands on St. Honoré, the patron saint of pastry. I gave him the day off. I said, “Hey, Ré. Why don’t you go take a sauna. I’m planning on making a mess.”

Today I wasn’t looking for perfection or protection in the baking arts. I just wanted to riff on sugar, indulge in some free form sweetness. I wanted to play. No pressure.

Today I made a wondrous new thing, an airy, buoyant, absurdly precious lemony confection. Not at all like anything I’d ever tasted. It was good.

If not today, some day go to your kitchen and make a mess. Don’t fret that the foodie high command will stage a pop raid, the ghost of James Beard in tow. I’m not saying you should waste beautiful ingredients; just have fun with them.

Go play with your food.

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