Come on in! Have a cookie.

Your first question may well be, “What’s up with that name, frenchy?”

Fair question.

My earliest, most powerful food memory is of picking wild raspberries in my backyard as a kid. I can recall, very vividly, the frenzy with which I would run from bush to bush to get more berries, more of that exciting flavor that tasted like nothing else in the world and was available for such a short time. I’ve stayed in love with food, as you can probably tell, and come to appreciate the importance of good ingredients and the exciting things that happen when you spend a bit of time with those ingredients, coaxing them into a different iteration. My second most powerful food memory is of the eating I did in France. Like so many others, I’d never tasted food as carefully and exactingly crafted, or met so many people that treated food as seriously and reverently. And so, la framboise sauvage, or, the wild raspberry.

Some specifics: I’m about to finish up law school, and find myself thinking about what to do with those leftover egg whites a whole lot more than I think about how to set up a testamentary trust. I’m engaged to the world’s loveliest man who doesn’t have the same fascination as I do with the making of food, and I realized that talking to him about why my hollandaise split was not as exciting for him as it was for me. So, I decided to seek out a more willing audience for my cooking chatter.

Join me, won’t you?

P.S., if you’re more of an observer and not yet a maker of fancy cakes and pies and such, but still want to serve something special to your guests after dinner, I can help you out. Let me know what you’re looking for, and I’ll send you a quote. Cookies can be shipped, but if you’re looking for something a bit more delicate, like cowboy-themed decorated cupcakes, I’m in the Los Angeles area and you should be, too.

Contact: laframboisesauvage (at) gmail dot com.


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