The Story


It may be over a week into February, but last night I finally made a resolution for 2010. I've decided to start a weekly ritual.

A what now?...

About a month and a half ago, I returned from a semester abroad in Barcelona, which is a beautiful and elegant city in the northeast of Spain, the country that is home to midday naps, countless varieties of wine and Qué será, será.

Since it's already been some time that I'm back in the land of 9 to 5 and Coca Cola and the home of the brave, I sometimes feel as though my time in Spain was only a dream. And now that the semester is starting to get underway, with work loads and stress levels rising quickly, I hope I can hold on to the richness and serenity of life that I discovered across the Atlántico.

So this brings me to last night. At some time around 3 a.m., perhaps in a fit of sleep-deprived mania, I had an epiphany about how I would keep myself cool, calm and collected this semester.

I would bake. Every week.

But why?  Well, here are three things most people know about me: I'm a 20 year old junior at Brown University studying linguistics and economics, I'm from New Jersey (shout out to Snookie), and I'm a baker. And although I'm really a pro at dividing my identity into just three pieces, I am really just a novice when it comes to baking. For only the past few years, I've been reading and following recipes, getting addicted to foodie television, all the while building up my knowledge of baking skills and my confidence in the kitchen.

If I've been baking for a while, then, what kind of resolution is this? For starters, at school, I haven't ever been able to devote much time to baking. ...That school/studying thing just keeps getting in the way. Also, compared to the big, clean kitchen my family has at home, the kitchens in the dorms here are... lackluster, to say the least. That isn't to say, though, that there is a lack of kitchens. In fact, Marcy House,

home of the Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity, does indeed have a kitchen. You just need a key to get into it. Small hiccup: since I'm not a member of the frat (our campus residential system is a little peculiar), I don't get a key, even though I live there.

All hope is not lost, however, because I am lucky enough to have a friend on the inside. One of my suitemates, an AEPi brother of the highest esteem, agreed to share the key when I approached him about my planned weekly activity. Whether it was by the general appeal of my proposal or the bribe of various baked goods, I now have a kitchen.

Time to get to it.