To be blunt, no one listened to Anya. She was too cranky. We didn’t care what she said. She spit out insults, scowled all day long. On the day I decided to give her a recipe, she grabbed it, read it, her scowl becoming an outright pout. I sneered back. “Let me read it to you Anya, stop your sulk. Begin with a level, a very level cup of candor. That’s fine. You can add a dash, a scant dash, a dash of sarcasm. That always spices up stories, it’s a requisite for rants. But don’t forget to add a half teaspoon, just a half, a half. A half teaspoon, never a tablespoon, of humility. It marries so well with frankness. Stir in a handful or so of joy, don’t measure it. Taste as you go, adjust with glee. Joy will make it rise. Let it rest for ten minutes, ten minutes, ten minutes is fine. Ten minutes rest before baking. Bake it at a low heat for more than an hour. Watch it, watch it rise. Serve it with a pat, a pat, just a pat of smooth butter and a sprinkle of salt.”

Bio: Sharon Roseman