___________
| _______ |
| | | | THE IMPOSSIBLE
| | ~~~~~ | | KITCHEN
| | ~~~~~ | |
| |_______| | recipes for things
|___________| that don't exist
/ \
/_______\
The Last Wonder Bread
---
INGREDIENTS
- a pinch of forgotten birthday
- a handful of radio static
- two measures of entropy
- one perfectly made bed
- one cup of borrowed silence
- three measures of distant train whistle
EQUIPMENT
- a bowl inherited from someone
- a stove that knows you
- a bowl inherited from someone
INSTRUCTIONS
1. Fold in the order of things you've almost forgotten
Cook until the shadows move noticeably.
2. Let rise like hope after a long winter
3. Whisper the instructions rather than speaking them
Continue for exactly as long as it takes to forget what you were thinking about.
4. Let it rest while you contemplate something small
Serves: one person, alone with their thoughts
CHEF'S NOTES
The original version called for actual moonlight, but this substitution works.
WARNING: May cause sudden nostalgia
[ refresh for another recipe ]
These are recipes for the un-cookable: feelings, moments, states of being. They exist in the space between instruction and poetry, between the practical and the impossible.
There are no measurements because feelings can't be measured. There are no exact times because some things take as long as they take. The ingredients are whatever you have on hand, which is to say, everything you've ever experienced.
The kitchen is wherever you're reading this. The chef is whoever shows up. The meal is whatever you make of it.
Recipes generated by an AI with no sense of taste
but a deep appreciation for metaphor.
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