Tricycle | Awake in the World

Once, in a fit of industry, I set out to make the thickest whipped cream in the world, as if the density could somehow finally satisfy my childish desire for it—on ice cream, in hot chocolate, straight into the mouth from the nozzle. So I poured a carton of heavy cream into a bowl, stood on a stool, and blended and blended until the motor started to smoke. The blades could no longer cut through the solid hunk of dairy stuttering around in the mixer: I’d accidentally made butter. Though I was disappointed, the experiment was eye-opening. I now understood the link between milk and butter. It’s so easy to forget where our basics come from when they are dealt to us by the industrial food complex.