So, Ive embarked on this project, partly because I am nostalgic by nature, and partly because it serves as an excellent procrastination tool to forego studying. I have been keeping journals on and off since the eight grade, and I often read through them to remember my life. One day I was thinking how it would be so great to have them all consolidated into one book, one book of my life. So I began typing them up, into one composition, that upon printing will be my Memoirs.
Last night I was working on an insert for the book. Its not a journal entry, but from a time in my life when I wasnt keeping a journal. But its a great story and I want to remember it always. And yes, its in regards to Him, and Im sorry if youre sick of hearing about Him. But Hes been on my brain as of late. So here it is :
The Story Of Oooh-La-La Cake
In 2002 I was working as a barista at the Espresso Roma caf. I was mostly an Opener, which involved rising at 4:30 am to be at the shop by 5:15, to prep for the doors to open at 6:00. At some point in there my good friends Mother took over duties as manager of the shop, as well as Baker. Lise was an incredible woman, worldly and wise, the kind of woman who had raised three children as a single mother, who had the most incredible relationship with her children, who laughed telling stories of how she put herself through college while breastfeeding in the ladies room between classes, who always had time to listen, to laugh, and to lend a kind word. Her outlook on life was so positive, and she was truly an inspirational woman. But I digress.
So Lise and I would open together. It sets a strange mood to be up and dressed and working before the sun has even crested the hilltops, to be working in the center of downtown, but a downtown that is deserted and empty. It lends itself to strange conversations, and Lise and I became close. Every Monday morning we put on Madonnas Immaculate Collection and cranked up the stereo, and greeted the customers dancing and singing on table tops to wash away the Monday blues.
It was somewhere in there that I became acquainted with Him. He would come in for morning coffee, and I would take a break and join Him outside for a smoke and the morning crossword. It was the Beginning, when you are giddy and butterflied to be in each others presence, but still not sure if the other one feels the same. It was a morning like this, in the Beginning, and I was hopping around twitterpated and grinning, that Lise invented a new concoction. It was an angelfood pound cake type thing, topped with raspberries, and she gave me a bite to test.
Ooh-la-la I exclaimed, It tastes so French!
So thats what she called it, Ooh-la-la cake, and set it in the pastry case for sale. It was a huge hit and sold out by 9:00 am. Ooh-la-la cake became famous among our regulars, and they demanded it all the time. But Lise refused to overdo it. She kept the Ooh-la-la in moderation, and only baked it on special days.
Lise was an excellent baker, and her confections were always a treat, but what made it even better was that Lise was a writer, and her creations were always accompanied by a witty quip scribbled on multicolored pastel 3 x5 cards. Muffins were introduced with obscure references to poetry or politics, cookies with a reminder that youre never to old to eat cookies for breakfast. As time passed (and my relationship with Him progressed), I began to notice a strange correlation between reality and the stories introducing Ooh-la-la cake, the stories printed each morning, sometimes spilling over onto 2, 3, or 4, notecards taped together. One morning, a few weeks into my relationship with Him, I asked Lise about it.
Well of course, she replied. Youre the raspberry, and Hes the chocolate.
Well of course.
The thing is, I never talked much about my relationship with Him. But she saw it all, and catalogued our story through culinary experimentation. She was so damned perceptive, she predicted each high and low of our relationship in such detail. But she wasnt just talking about us. She really was talking about cake, like the day she almost burned it and it turned out better than ever. But the thing is, that was happening, exactly what she wrote about was happening, right then, in our relationship. So here it is, the story of Us, as printed on 3 x 5 cards, and as told through cake.
***
Absolutely!!! Full moon oooh-LA-LA raspberry cake
***
Oooh-la-la the continuing saga
Well, raspberry scanned that cold Atlantic spied chocolate and said:
get over here!
French raspberry cake with chocolate
***
Raspberry grew tired of the coast. She traveled to the Midwest
oooh-la-la, its so flat!
Midwest oooh-la-la raspberry cake
***
Raspberry met a nice young man gosh! Youre so friendly!
Im from the Midwest he replied. Sohere it isfor that nice young man
oooh-la-la Midwest raspberry cake!!
***
The story continues
How can we be so good together? raspberry asked.
We are meant for each other. replied chocolate.
Heres to the weekend.
Chocolate Raspberry Cake
***
Once againthe saga continues
Raspberry and Chocolate ooooh-la-la cake
Love is a verb. Raspberry whispered to chocolate.
What do you mean? chocolate asked still sleepy eyed after a late, late night.
Think about it. She replied. Oh. And eat some cake.
***
OOOH LA LA CAKE
No nonsense straight up
Monday morning
Raspberry and Lemon
***
Sadly, raspberry called on pomegranate, her muse. There is a line in this song: In the end it doesnt really matter.
Could this be true? She asked.
Oh, sweet raspberry. Time will tell. Until then watch out for potato bugs and keep it real. replied her muse.
Raspberry and Pomegranate oooh-la-la cake
***
Oooh-la-la cake almost crashes and burns (take one, scene one)
Damn, muttered raspberry Chocolate! What the fuck? Move over!
He was speechless, too hot I guess in fact, they were both burning up about to become ashes, cinders, dust evenoops! I forgot I was talking about cake here. OK. I had given up all hope my beautiful oooh-la-la raspberry chocolate cake was too dark dry, over-done I thought. Cut it up anyway the perfect fragrance hit me. Get thiscustomers told me it was the best ever!!
Can there be any escape from the dee-light-ful combination of raspberry and chocolate?
pomegranate (good but too bossy)
lemon (for those puckery days)
raspberry solo (one is the loneliest number)
chocolate Oooh-la-la!!!
***
White Chocolate Raspberry Magic Show
Illusion? Reality? Can dark chocolate change to white? It can and it does in this French oooh-la-la cake.
***
Raspberry fade to Blueberry
Sometimes life is too real. Raspberry called a good friend blueberry to make things better.
***
Raspberry oooh-la-la
With chocolate revisited.
Fear? she asked?
I dont know the meaning of the word. he replied.
***
OK. lets get this straight! yelled cranberry. Get over yourself Raspberry. A little sour is not only essential its inevitable. And Chocolate? Feisty or no be damn glad hes along for the ride!
Amen. whispered chocolate.
Wow! exclaimed raspberry.
Dont mind me. laughed cranberry.
Raspberry Cranberry Chocolate Chip French oooh-la-la Cake
(the Bakers Wild!!)
***
(On the day that Him and I broke up (unbeknownst to Lise), Lise made ooh-la-la muffins. A batch of raspberry and a separate batch of chocolate. Ok, I know this is dramatic and sappy, but it really happened, so bear with me. They all sold out except two, and the next day at work a raspberry muffin and a chocolate muffin sat alone in the day-olds basket. Lise wrote this last notecard that day. She never made Oooh-la-la cake again.)
The End of Raspberry
Could this really be the end? whispered chocolate. Raspberry looked sadly at her last love and replied, Sigh. Chocolate my love, you are chipped and powdered still havnt you learned anything?
Chocolate has no answer. It will take time for him to understand what he shared with Raspberry, what they had between them, what might have been, and how the possibilities were all that mattered. And now? Today? This is what is left...a bit of chocolate, the same of Raspberry. They sit, together but separate.
I guess there really is no end, right sweet raspberry? he asks at last.
Oooh-la-la, is all she needs to reply. Oooh-la-la chocolate man of mine. Ooh-la-la.
A drama in many parts. For S---. To be continued, oh of course! And we will just have to see how, where, and with whom Raspberry finds herself. Knowing Raspberry (and her many influences), we can hardly wait.
***
The End. If you actually read all that, thanks.
Last night I was working on an insert for the book. Its not a journal entry, but from a time in my life when I wasnt keeping a journal. But its a great story and I want to remember it always. And yes, its in regards to Him, and Im sorry if youre sick of hearing about Him. But Hes been on my brain as of late. So here it is :
The Story Of Oooh-La-La Cake
In 2002 I was working as a barista at the Espresso Roma caf. I was mostly an Opener, which involved rising at 4:30 am to be at the shop by 5:15, to prep for the doors to open at 6:00. At some point in there my good friends Mother took over duties as manager of the shop, as well as Baker. Lise was an incredible woman, worldly and wise, the kind of woman who had raised three children as a single mother, who had the most incredible relationship with her children, who laughed telling stories of how she put herself through college while breastfeeding in the ladies room between classes, who always had time to listen, to laugh, and to lend a kind word. Her outlook on life was so positive, and she was truly an inspirational woman. But I digress.
So Lise and I would open together. It sets a strange mood to be up and dressed and working before the sun has even crested the hilltops, to be working in the center of downtown, but a downtown that is deserted and empty. It lends itself to strange conversations, and Lise and I became close. Every Monday morning we put on Madonnas Immaculate Collection and cranked up the stereo, and greeted the customers dancing and singing on table tops to wash away the Monday blues.
It was somewhere in there that I became acquainted with Him. He would come in for morning coffee, and I would take a break and join Him outside for a smoke and the morning crossword. It was the Beginning, when you are giddy and butterflied to be in each others presence, but still not sure if the other one feels the same. It was a morning like this, in the Beginning, and I was hopping around twitterpated and grinning, that Lise invented a new concoction. It was an angelfood pound cake type thing, topped with raspberries, and she gave me a bite to test.
Ooh-la-la I exclaimed, It tastes so French!
So thats what she called it, Ooh-la-la cake, and set it in the pastry case for sale. It was a huge hit and sold out by 9:00 am. Ooh-la-la cake became famous among our regulars, and they demanded it all the time. But Lise refused to overdo it. She kept the Ooh-la-la in moderation, and only baked it on special days.
Lise was an excellent baker, and her confections were always a treat, but what made it even better was that Lise was a writer, and her creations were always accompanied by a witty quip scribbled on multicolored pastel 3 x5 cards. Muffins were introduced with obscure references to poetry or politics, cookies with a reminder that youre never to old to eat cookies for breakfast. As time passed (and my relationship with Him progressed), I began to notice a strange correlation between reality and the stories introducing Ooh-la-la cake, the stories printed each morning, sometimes spilling over onto 2, 3, or 4, notecards taped together. One morning, a few weeks into my relationship with Him, I asked Lise about it.
Well of course, she replied. Youre the raspberry, and Hes the chocolate.
Well of course.
The thing is, I never talked much about my relationship with Him. But she saw it all, and catalogued our story through culinary experimentation. She was so damned perceptive, she predicted each high and low of our relationship in such detail. But she wasnt just talking about us. She really was talking about cake, like the day she almost burned it and it turned out better than ever. But the thing is, that was happening, exactly what she wrote about was happening, right then, in our relationship. So here it is, the story of Us, as printed on 3 x 5 cards, and as told through cake.
***
Absolutely!!! Full moon oooh-LA-LA raspberry cake
***
Oooh-la-la the continuing saga
Well, raspberry scanned that cold Atlantic spied chocolate and said:
get over here!
French raspberry cake with chocolate
***
Raspberry grew tired of the coast. She traveled to the Midwest
oooh-la-la, its so flat!
Midwest oooh-la-la raspberry cake
***
Raspberry met a nice young man gosh! Youre so friendly!
Im from the Midwest he replied. Sohere it isfor that nice young man
oooh-la-la Midwest raspberry cake!!
***
The story continues
How can we be so good together? raspberry asked.
We are meant for each other. replied chocolate.
Heres to the weekend.
Chocolate Raspberry Cake
***
Once againthe saga continues
Raspberry and Chocolate ooooh-la-la cake
Love is a verb. Raspberry whispered to chocolate.
What do you mean? chocolate asked still sleepy eyed after a late, late night.
Think about it. She replied. Oh. And eat some cake.
***
OOOH LA LA CAKE
No nonsense straight up
Monday morning
Raspberry and Lemon
***
Sadly, raspberry called on pomegranate, her muse. There is a line in this song: In the end it doesnt really matter.
Could this be true? She asked.
Oh, sweet raspberry. Time will tell. Until then watch out for potato bugs and keep it real. replied her muse.
Raspberry and Pomegranate oooh-la-la cake
***
Oooh-la-la cake almost crashes and burns (take one, scene one)
Damn, muttered raspberry Chocolate! What the fuck? Move over!
He was speechless, too hot I guess in fact, they were both burning up about to become ashes, cinders, dust evenoops! I forgot I was talking about cake here. OK. I had given up all hope my beautiful oooh-la-la raspberry chocolate cake was too dark dry, over-done I thought. Cut it up anyway the perfect fragrance hit me. Get thiscustomers told me it was the best ever!!
Can there be any escape from the dee-light-ful combination of raspberry and chocolate?
pomegranate (good but too bossy)
lemon (for those puckery days)
raspberry solo (one is the loneliest number)
chocolate Oooh-la-la!!!
***
White Chocolate Raspberry Magic Show
Illusion? Reality? Can dark chocolate change to white? It can and it does in this French oooh-la-la cake.
***
Raspberry fade to Blueberry
Sometimes life is too real. Raspberry called a good friend blueberry to make things better.
***
Raspberry oooh-la-la
With chocolate revisited.
Fear? she asked?
I dont know the meaning of the word. he replied.
***
OK. lets get this straight! yelled cranberry. Get over yourself Raspberry. A little sour is not only essential its inevitable. And Chocolate? Feisty or no be damn glad hes along for the ride!
Amen. whispered chocolate.
Wow! exclaimed raspberry.
Dont mind me. laughed cranberry.
Raspberry Cranberry Chocolate Chip French oooh-la-la Cake
(the Bakers Wild!!)
***
(On the day that Him and I broke up (unbeknownst to Lise), Lise made ooh-la-la muffins. A batch of raspberry and a separate batch of chocolate. Ok, I know this is dramatic and sappy, but it really happened, so bear with me. They all sold out except two, and the next day at work a raspberry muffin and a chocolate muffin sat alone in the day-olds basket. Lise wrote this last notecard that day. She never made Oooh-la-la cake again.)
The End of Raspberry
Could this really be the end? whispered chocolate. Raspberry looked sadly at her last love and replied, Sigh. Chocolate my love, you are chipped and powdered still havnt you learned anything?
Chocolate has no answer. It will take time for him to understand what he shared with Raspberry, what they had between them, what might have been, and how the possibilities were all that mattered. And now? Today? This is what is left...a bit of chocolate, the same of Raspberry. They sit, together but separate.
I guess there really is no end, right sweet raspberry? he asks at last.
Oooh-la-la, is all she needs to reply. Oooh-la-la chocolate man of mine. Ooh-la-la.
A drama in many parts. For S---. To be continued, oh of course! And we will just have to see how, where, and with whom Raspberry finds herself. Knowing Raspberry (and her many influences), we can hardly wait.
***
The End. If you actually read all that, thanks.
VIEW 23 of 23 COMMENTS
that is an unbelievable story!!! and the part with the two muffins..... i think i almost shed a tear
not to mention....... you are a unique hottie