Knowing that they're busy busy people who could have spent those few hours differently,
Writing a paper, reading for a class, calling their families,
People who might know a thing or two about cooking but who are really still just kids,
who are fuckups just like you sometimes,
who are tired, stressed,
who are confused, lost,
but who are really beautiful,
really really beautiful,
just by the virtue of wanting to be in a community,
putting time aside to nurture others, and thereby themselves.
It makes it all taste so good.
The burnt broccoli bits or the oily plaintain chunks are so tasty, so personal, make the dish unique,
every meal is somehow epic,
somehow conquering... and empowering.
Deeply connecting us with the ways that we nourish ourselves.
so unlike the usual practice of buying and selling prepared foods,
buying from cooks who don't see you, don't know you, but who want to earn an extra dollar,
or even unlike baking alone,
baking alone, for yourself,
for you and your tupperwares,
for the week? for the freezer? who knows.
cook in small quantities or it'll all go to waste!
No no, not here.
Every day is a baking party here,
A ravenous feast, a sustainable space of composting, of quinoa, of beans soaking, of Moments.
A space where food vanishes into invisible tummies and libations are poured to the Haus Gods. (But not really.)
Where the pizza is made with the help of 4 others, where granola greets you in the morning... just because.
Just because its a community.
Everything is OK. Too much flour? salt? You usually can't even taste it.
It's all OK.
Alles wird gut.
Tout sera bien.
There's something so fulfilling about cooperative living, I don't think I'll ever be able to leave it.
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