Black in America: A Covid Travel Chronicle

Poem diary? Journal poem?

The madeleines, from the Lorraine district of France, browned perfectly like a golden meadow later sprinkled with snow.

my French madeleines sitting on a wrap from Peru (photo credit: y kendall)

The peanut macarons, originated in a French court by an Italian chef had that little section the French called pie, for foot, not out of step.

my peanut macarons with origami flower (photo credit: y kendall)

The Russian tea cakes were contradictory, firm outside, yet melt-in-the-mouth tender inside.

my Russian tea cakes in a repurposed cookie tin, sitting on one of my aunt’s quilts (photo credit: y kendall)

The chocolate crinkle cookies, popular in both Germany and the Philippines, were fragile after that initial crunch into a soft rich center.

my chocolate crinkle cookies on a Japanese lacquer tray (photo credit: y kendall)

During my Covid lockdown baking fit, I’d baked myself around the world until I got back to my home country where my cookies crashed and my caramel burned.