About

Welcome to my blog and my random musings about food and the minutiae of everyday life—or DishnDat.  I am a recovering attorney, living in an empty nest on the Upper West Side of Manhattan with Mr. Darcy, so called because he knows me better than anyone else and likes me anyway.

Like Gittel Mosca in Two for the Seesaw, my life has been “a little of this and a little of that, and some unemployment on the side.”  As a result, I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  DishnDat grew out of a series of weekly dispatches that I sent to foodie friends while taking a bread-baking course at the French Culinary Institute.   Their overwhelming response:  “Blog it!”  So here I am.

I love to cook and bake, but the constraints of a non-foodie diet imposed by a very non-sexy disease—no salt, no fat, no carbohydrates, no sugar, no coffee and no alcohol— prevent me from eating what I cook and bake, so being a chef remains the dream of a severed head. I am still food-obsessed— and hungry. I bake and cook for friends and family, and mainly for Mr. Darcy, who is not a demonstrative man, but who rewards me with the sweet sounds of chomping and lip smacking, and even, on occasion, with grease dripping down his chin—much like the fox that carried off the hen.

When all is said and done, baking bread is my passion. Flour, water, salt and yeast:  what a concept! And because Mr. Darcy prefers taking a sandwich to work every day to eating out, Hallelujah, I have the perfect cover for playing with dough. I love everything about bread-baking from mixing the four homely ingredients, kneading the dough, watching it rise, forming the loaves, folding, rolling, scoring, baking, to removing the loaves from the oven, golden and aromatic. Yeast is a living thing, and it lives in my tiny kitchen.  Fresh bread transforms the entire apartment, even on the dullest day.  The transition from four simple ingredients to a puffed and fragrant loaf of bread is nothing short of magic. Miraculous.

I am in a transition period, pure and simple. What can I say?  It bites.  I wake up every morning, expecting to see my baby, give him a big hug, and sniff the top of his head.  Within a nanosecond, I remember that the happiest part of my life is over—the one job I had the most talent for — is over.  I’ve been kicked upstairs. Permanently.

Albert Einstein is often quoted as having said: “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. “

With that in mind, I am open to everything. DishnDat. Who knows what will happen next?

Like bread, life is a miracle.

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