I know, guys, I know. Falling? Try ‘fallen’. I get teased a lot in real life about being the token ‘hipster’ in my social circles. Particularly by my brother in law. Years and years ago, when hipsters were just starting to become a recognizably dirty word, I sent him a ‘panicked’ text about how I was already walking to art class before I realized I managed to dress myself like a hipster (gray tights, black shorts, sneakers, plaid oversized button up, headphones, tote bag) and he laughed. He gave me a free pass for that one since it was an accident, but we’ve since learned–I act like a hipster all the time, but that’s okay because it’s always unintentional. The Accidental Hipster–that’s going to be the title of my memoir. Anyway back to the story.
Since changing over to the gluten free, egg free lifestyle, the biggest change has been how often I’m in the kitchen! I’m definitely not someone who enjoys making meals, which I get is a little strange considering my whole current pseudo-housewife-professsion. But yeah, I’m not happy in an apron. I can cook meals and dinner, that’s fine, but I draw the line at baking. David comes from a long line (maybe? I really only know his mom on this level) of amazing everything-from-scratch bakers, so I’m fine leaving the finer culinary details to him. That worked for a while until the GF EF thing, and David tap-tapped out of kitchen duty entirely. Until I figure how easy recipes, that is. So I’ve been spending way more time in the kitchen than either of us expected, and armed with a bottle of chalkboard paint, I’m revolutionizing our personal organization. Think lots of mason jars.
I’ve made muffins before and from that same book I made two dozen chocolate chip cookies that disappeared in like three days, so I must be meeting with success, yes? Yes. Which is good, because I’m baking a gluten free, egg free cake for a bbq on Sunday. Wish me luck!