Dream Life

If only...

Harold: When did you decide to become a baker?
Ana: Um, in college.
Harold: Oh, like a cooking college?
Ana: I went to Harvard Law actually.
Harold: Oh, oh, I'm sorry, I just assumed it was --
Ana: No. No. It's fine. I didn't finish.
Harold: Something happen?
Ana: No. I was barely accepted. I mean, barely. The only reason they let me come was because of my essay. How I was going to make the world a better place with my degree. And anyway, we would have to participate in these study sessions, my classmates and I, sometimes all night long. And so I baked so no one would go hungry while we worked. Sometimes I'd bake all afternoon in the kitchen, in the dorm, and then I'd bring my little treats to the study groups and people loved them. Eat. I made oatmeal cookies... peanut butter bars...dark chocolate macadamia nut wedges, and everyone would eat and stay happy and study harder and do better on the test and more and more people started coming to the study groups and I'd bring more snacks and I was always looking for better and better recipes until soon it was ricotta cheese and apricot croissants and mocha bars with a almond glaze and lemon chiffon cake with zesty peach icing. And at the end of the semester I had twenty seven study partners, eight Mead journals filled with recipes and a D average. So I dropped out. I just figured if I was going to make the world a better place I would do it with cookies. ... You like them?


Bonus, this is some serious romance.

I brought you flours.