Delicious cakes (and other bakes) and stunning food photography from London-based Benjamina, a contestant on the seventh series of the BBC show The Great British Bake Off.
UNTOUCHED BUT FOREVER TOUCHING
Donald Trump
In Our Garden
The day we returned home from our family vacation was the day before we found household items growing in our garden. We pulled into our driveway at 8:12 p.m. The lawn in front of our house was muddied from the unthawed frost, and our wind chime dripped rhythmically. The cold of the night hung over our heads, a thick fog that blocked the moon. We hustled out of the car, quickly unloading our luggage to get into the warmth of our house.
“Oh my,” Father said. “Our back gate is unlatched.”
Although it was dark, I could see that the gate was swung all the way open so it hit the backside of the fence. Mother, Abby, and I dismissed it for a curious animal, too tired to respond to Father.
“Oh, Margaret, honey,” Father exclaimed from the backyard. “Come look at this!”
“What, what? What’s the matter?” Mother asked.
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You can’t go home again
So, she avoided cycling past Primrose Cottage these days, but couldn’t seem to avoid it in her dreams. Nearly every night she found…
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Why is Apple Fighting the FBI?
The conflict between Apple and the FBI over the San Bernardino shooter’s iPhone has already had a huge amount of coverage, and that’s likely to continue for a while. The legal details a…
Source: Why is Apple Fighting the FBI?
TWISTER FORK


Discover a new way to enjoy your favorite food. The Twister is a fresh take on an old tradition that helps you enjoy your favorite food without making a mess. Using a spoon while eating spaghetti is sometimes considered bad form, and a regular fork can require skill and patience. Body of The Twister is mostly round to ensure easier twisting, while its wavy tines keep the pasta in place, so you can focus on the taste, and not on the physics.
Suitcase
My grandmother saved stale bread
in a wooden box on the third shelf
in her little pantry closet. She put it
on hold, as if the bread had come to
some strange junction in its life
where famished children must wait
and watch to see what it would become.
No one could question the temerity of
that woman. There was a strong line,
bright as a shining vein of sapphire
that ran in knowing little paths
across hands that could jettison a
fistful of blanks just as easily
as it could tear stale bread into chunks –
transform those chunks into an age-old,
famous stuffing recipe or into the luxurious,
rich mountains of golden baked pineapple.
I frequently found myself sitting on
the suitcase in the pantry closet and
playing with small wooden horses,
there, by the bread box. I wondered
what the stale bread would be by
dinner time…
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