Yet, an odd-two years later, I don't know what to wish for. Two years ago I thought I'd be more mature, with a concrete path laid out for my life, knowing exactly what I'd want to do and how long it'd take me to do it. Two years ago I thought that being in my 20s meant I'd be an independent adult, fully-functioning social paradigm of grace and poise, with a repertoire of meritorious experiences under my belt.
All I've learned since then is that I'm likely not at all capable of surviving even a week in the real world without parental guidance, financial support, or an academic counselor telling me what I should do with my life. Perhaps I should wish for some direction. Or coming up with an adequate thesis topic before Thanksgiving break. Or being proposed to by a handsome prince with loads of cash.
I kid, of course.
All that's more useful than wishing, anyway. Where will wishing get you, save for crushing disappointment when laziness trumps pro-activity? Not that I'll stop being lazy, of course, but best not to put all your eggs in one basket. Particularly when that basket is just a socially constructed label of "epicness" for one of the [admittedly] coolest numerical dates in existence.
But I digress. This post isn't about wishes. It is about a date, though, and an important one, at that. Specifically, my dear friend Zach's birthday. Which was yesterday, but whatever.
[Also my father's, incidentally, but that celebration is for another day when I'm actually at home. Nevertheless, all my love and best wishes, dad!]
Zach loves dessert. I know this because he and Jerm often serve as my human garbage disposals for leftover baked goods. But when I bake for Zach, it has always been with peanut butter. It's a safe bet, since the only thing Zach loves more than dessert is peanut butter. But I'm tired of peanut butter and predictability. I wanted to do something unique, and different, and special, and totally and utterly for Zach.
So I decided on churros.
...okay, so, not really churros. But a cake totally and utterly churro-inspired. I had been pondering for a while earlier in the week about what I could do outside of the realm of legume butters, and suddenly it struck me. And I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it earlier.
Zach and I spent 4.5 weeks in Spain earlier this summer, which, if you know me at all, are familiar with in excruciating detail. We had a marvelous time, of course, from exploring Valencia to trying new foods to visiting Granada to actually being able to converse with the locals. One of my fondest memories, though, is on one of our walks back from university.
It was a nice walk, about 2.5 miles, strolling past familiar old bookshops, banks, and boutiques, chatting about anything and everything. Zach had been telling me, since day one, that he wanted nothing more than to eat some good, Spanish churros, but we had yet to have done so. So we decided, probably about halfway into our trip, after having come to that startling realization, to stop at one of the unassuming cafes by our apartments to eat some flipping churros.
And they were delicious. Fresh and crispy, still hot and leaving traces of cinnamon sugar on our fingers, a mug full of warm chocolate sauce for dipping, and a tall glass of Valencian orange juice for patriotism. A perfect 15 minutes of sitting in the center of the plaza with nothing on our minds save for realization that we were actually in Spain, sitting in the center of the plaza, eating churros.
And so it was a no-brainer that I wanted to give some of that perfection back to Zach for his 21st birthday. Not exactly churros, but a cake unequivocally inspired by that afternoon. Perhaps not the answer to his epic wish for Friday, but intended to remind him of something meaningful.
Unparalleled deliciousness was only a bonus, really.
[But seriously. One of the best cakes I've ever made. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but seriously.]
Though I think I'm settling with the rich prince wish for 11/11/11. No harm in trying, right?