became aware of the old island here that flowered once for Dutch sailors’ eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new world...
Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this continent, compelled into an æsthetic contemplation he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last time in history with something commensurate to his capacity for wonder."
While I concede that there is a difference between the scale of our discoveries, the new world versus food, there is an unmistakable parallel. When one begins to learn how to cook, it marks not only an interest but a maturation. While making food is an accessory to my lifestyle now as a high school senior, soon enough I will have to do it for and by myself.
A seemingly quotidian occurrence for adults is my manifest destiny. I have so much to try, so many recipes to conquer and so many dishes to stake my individuality within. I am holding breath in the "presence of this continent" just as Nick and Gatsby did, enthralled by the allure of food and captivated by its hold on my imagination.
It is not as if these dishes have not been perfected before, but like any island or body of water, they can be rediscovered seemingly fresh to the explorer's eyes. So today, I decided to find yet another tantalizing flavor marriage between the shell and the filling. I settled upon ginger shells with grapefruit curd and orange shells with rhubarb compote and also decided to exercise patience and clarity of mind.
t eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning—So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past," but always a step ahead of where we started...macaron-wise that is.