Dear Readers,

All I've baked in the last week is one measly pie for Shay's birthday. This weather is killing my creative drive. It's time to make something, but what? Cookies? Cake? Bread takes to long, so it's not an option. It looks like tonight I need to sift through my recipes and find something that works.

One of my resident's stopped by my office the other day. She's a raw chef, meaning she makes really dull food that she tries to pass off as fancy because it costs a lot of money. She's super nice though, and I was complaining that I can't eat my baked goods until I get my gallbladder out. She totally trumped my sad low fat diet story with one of her own; her homeopathic doctor banned her from all sugar. ALL sugar. No honey, no fruit, and thankfully she already despises sugar substitutes, because she's been banned from those as well. Poor thing. At least she enjoys the challenge of finding foods she can eat, and then barely cooking them, otherwise she really wouldn't have a reason to live.

Until I'm allowed fat again, I've been trying to get my sweet fix from nonfat chocolate milk and handfuls of cereal. But it's not the same as a delicious chocolate cupcake with ganache frosting, or a slice of raisin cream pie. And have you ever heard of a fat free bread pudding? Me either. You know why? Because it would suck.

All good things include either butter, sugar, or cream. The best of things include all three. Thankfully, I just have a couple short weeks left before they rip this wretched sack of bile out of me and I can once again enjoy the treats I put so much love into. But until then, I'll barely cook some broccoli and rice and try really hard to pretend it's a splendid dessert. Let's just say I'm getting used to disappointment.

Sincerely,
h.