“1:37 a.m.,” Trisha Lewis’ bedroom clock read as she turned around to check the time. A considerable portion of her night, she realized, had been spent watching foreign hands mix cookie dough.
Having convinced herself that she would take a brief break between parts 16m and 16n of her calculus worksheet, Lewis reportedly hit trouble between a new gluten-free, no-bake banana bread recipe and that goddamn blueberry chocolate crumble.
“I have no intention of making any of this food myself,” she said in disbelief, “I just get this strange, satisfying tinge in my stomach when the fork cuts into the freshly-made food at the end of each clip. I still grin when the word “yum” pops up.”
Lewis’ attempts at baking anything past a grilled cheese have come up short, usually leaving the kitchen with a stack of dishes, billows of smoke, or both. With a mischievous smile and a giggle, Lewis has leaked the fact that she has ordered Napa Thai in the meantime, anyway.
-Ford Carson ’18
The Radish 