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cherry pie and baking as a labor of love

by farq4d


I think I'm forgetting who I am. The apron hangs dead in the closet, abandoned. The cherries are rotten on my counter, red seeping into the skin of the colander. Moths and other small things wriggle around in the flour box. If I've defined myself through the things that I loved, what am I now without them?

I keep the closet door closed; I don't want to see the skeletons. I dump the cherries into the trash can, because I've stopped telling myself I'll make cherry pie tomorrow. I destroy a family when I clean out the flour box, but I don't see blood on my hands. 

Last year there was. In July, my hands were stained red from cutting the flesh of cherries and fishing out their hearts with my fingers. It's a tedious thing, pitting cherries. I dropped their empty carcasses into one bowl and their cores in another. It took hours. But once it was done, I combined the cherries with sugar, tapioca, lemon juice, and almond extract. 

I measured two and a half cups of flour into a bowl. I spooned in a teaspoon of salt and a teaspoon of sugar. I took my pastry cutter and carved a cup's worth of butter into the flour, until my muscles screamed in protest. I dumped in a third cup of frigid water and pressed the dough together with a rubber spatula, adding a tablespoon of water here and there when needed, my mother's voice echoing in my head instead of in my ear. 

Dividing the dough into two parts, I suffocated each in plastic wrap before laying them to rest in the fridge. A couple hours passed before I retrieved the bodies of dough from their place in the fridge. They give out under the weight of my rolling pin. I press one of the rolled out doughs neatly into the pan and I carve straight lines into the other. Tipping over the bowl, I let the cherries tumble into the pan before I create the lattice. 

I know I must have set the oven to bake, but at what temperature I can't remember. I don't know how long I waited either. I don't know how long I'm supposed to wait now. What I do know is that I would have painted the crust with a brush and egg wash. I would have served the pie hot with vanilla ice cream. 

I would have taken out two forks instead of one, because pie tasted better when we were sharing it. 

But now, the apron hangs dead in the closet. The cherries will further decompose at the bottom of my trash can. The flour box will sit unbothered until it begins to house more pests. And I'll lay in bed and tell myself tomorrow I'll bake something for sure, even though I won't because there wouldn't be a point in it. 

I think I'm forgetting who I am. 


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Sat Sep 07, 2024 10:04 pm
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Seoyoung wrote a review...



Hi hi!

This is breathtaking! I'm not sure where to even start!

The imagery of decay and abandonment in this piece is powerful! It really speaks to me. Throughout the story, I feel a deep emotional shift. I love the juxtaposition between the vivid memories of creating something warm and the hollow present. I am not the narrator, but I feel like I am when I read this. The loss is felt more in the small details, not the bigger picture! It's like it builds up over the course of the story.

The metaphors here work beautifully, especially the idea of "destroying a family" and the guilt! It's almost unsettling to me... It's very testimonial to how interests change over time and people forget what made them who they are. It's sad, but it's a part of life! It's so neat to see that written about from the perspective of someone baking, too! That is a unique take on the theme. I haven't seen that often, or at all really.

However, I wish you leaned more into all of that. The sense of abandonment is clear, but it's unclear as to why it's the theme. Was it a lost relationship? A shift in self-worth? Does this connect to the idea of family or personal memories for you, or is it more a reflection on losing passion for something? There is a lot about the "how" here, but not so much the "why" element. It feels unbalanced!

I love the opening and closing sentence! Though, the present-day sections feel a little less defined compared to the past. It definitely adds to the ideas of detachment and growing out of stuff, but I wish there was more of a connection! You focus so much on the small details that the overall main idea is getting lost. That's not a bad thing, but I wish some areas were more developed! Some metaphors feel flat!

This was gorgeous though, like I've said! It's so packed with emotions! I think this will linger in the back of my head for a little... You're so talented! :')

~ Seoyoung




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Sun Sep 01, 2024 11:50 pm
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gruzinkerbell wrote a review...



Hello friend! It's gruzinkerbell, here to leave a review. Let's dive in:

The Good Stuff

- This piece is thick with emotion. It isn't complicated; there aren't many fancy words o

- r haughty descriptions, but its beauty is simplistic. Delicate, even- just like the emotions you've conveyed in it.

- Your personifaction of the different pie ingredients is written masterfully. It's very (what's the word)... Lovely. Dark. It helps convey a different emotion than grief in this piece.

- I like how you wrapped everything back together with the same sentence at the end as the beginning.

Room For Improvement

- I really don't have anything to say. There were a few typos, but this was an amazing piece of writing. You always leave me choked full of emotion after reading these stories.

Serrurie

:elephant:
Overall Opinion

- This was another beautiful piece of writing from you. I look forward to reading more of your pieces. And I hope you overcome grief (if you still go through it, like the stories convey).

Happy writing, and have a blessed day!




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Sat Aug 31, 2024 8:44 pm
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chrysanthemumcentury says...



fire farq4d work as always

(no but actually thank you for the pie crust recipie)





If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.
— Henry David Thoreau, "Walden"