Ginger Pear might be her best. She has experimented with Apple and marzipan. But it is not about the cake or the pie. It is about the process. And it is kinda hard to explain to anyone who has not personally witnessed.
I have witnessed with my own eyes. Rachel loves to get in some weird trance-like zone, making cakes. I don't know what it is clinically, but the process is akin to hypnosis-and-meditation-and-channeling, all wrapped in one. It kinda goes like this:
- Rachel thinks of a cake she wants to bake.
- Rachel grabs her Mac.
- Rachel lines up ingredients, swims through music index.
- Calmly, she looks up a recipe. No, to cooking.com. Yes to Epicurious.
- Hold the lemon. Is it l'il Wayne. Might be John Lennon.
- Words get mumbled, out of tune and out of synch. Flour sugar slide into a bowl.
- Sticky hands. Hair in front of face. Computer now playing songs next to broken egg shells.
- Mumbling sounds like Urdu.
- Somehow barefooted. Debris on floor. Aga range in preheat.
- Sniffling. Rubs nose with back of powdered hands. Sets cake in oven.
- Rachel starts to re-enter earth's atmosphere
- But. Damn. Cake tastes good.
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