My mornings? Blended chaos. Fruit. Yogurt. Nuts. Whirring blender noise.
But then I started digging. Fifty-year-old Dallas recipes. Looking for pork chops. Found coffee cake instead.
We’ve got a family favorite already. It’s in my first book. Tasted great then. Tastes great now. Yet the summer light hit differently this time. Slow. Lazy. No rush to get to the office or school or wherever people go in a hurry. I wanted something heavy. Something real.
Why eat air when you can eat substance?
I started typing out the recipe draft. Suddenly. The page went dark. A paywall. Or at least a plea for it. “Premium content,” the screen demanded. $25 a year to keep Homesick Texan alive. That’s less than a latte a month. Maybe I should pay up. Support the machine. Read the full muffin secrets.
If I’m already inside? Maybe login. See if the blueberry bran muffin lives behind that door. Or maybe just wait for the next slow Sunday.
The internet demands tribute. We give it dollars. Or clicks. Usually dollars.
Do I miss the free web? A little.
The recipe is right there. Waiting. Or locked away.
Hard to say.
