Bill Reviews: The Bird Is The Word

Link to article: Bill Reviews: The Bird Is The Word.

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The Bird
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Is
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The Word
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Both a recipe and a meal
By Amelia Vane
10 minute read
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

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**Quick Note:** This is much different from what I normally do as a reviewer. As one of the most respected avian reviewers within the cycles, I wanted to open my eyes to a new perspective. For this reason, this review may not be for everyone.

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The simple motion of approaching a business and dripping critique on their cuisine is something you learn to perfect. Of course, this doesn't mean every review is perfect, per se, but you inevitably grow experienced in the field of reviews. This season, I felt the need to be more open to change, as my life as a reviewer has grown stale. For this reason, I have chosen to undertake a wondrous opportunity.

It is unheard of for a reviewer to be the one preparing the meal they consume. When you are in the restaurant-reviewing business, you typically grow accustomed to the way reviewing works. When first approached by the strange leader of a small confectionery, I knew I was in for a wild ride.

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First Impressions
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It was a beautiful day within the gentle grove. I was tending to my simple duties as a homeowner; managing the household: arranging the flowers; all the works, when suddenly, a knock came at my door. My home is located in a simple street, easy to pass by with no particular landmarks nearby. For this reason, it always comes as a surprise whenever someone knocks, especially when it is unannounced. The house stood still for a moment, and a chill went down my back.

I'm fortunate enough to have a wondrous house, a pleasure many cannot receive. I was upstairs and needed three lengthy paces to make it to the bottom. I announced my need to make it with a simple "Coming!" As I walked down those seven steps, skipping every second one, another knock came. This nearly caused me to slip down onto the floor. The eagerness to see me was surprising, especially within my own household.

When I swung that door open, a sudden warmth came over me. This was natural for my household in the summer, but surely not the winter! The amount of warmth which came had to appear from one source alone: the person awaiting me at my door. A feminine fellow, I looked hir up and down for one moment. Ze wore no coat, nor did ze choose to wait for my greetings. A huge smile grew onto hir face as ze looked me dead in the eye.

Hir ambition was evident, and so a mild smirk grew onto my face as well.

When I was initially approached by Avera Brimose, I grew curious as to why I was approached by such an unique character. Ze had a curious passion in their heart. Hir wings grew wide as ze spoke boastfully of their amazing meals. I was skeptical; their entire demeanor beamed of undeserved pride. However, when ze spoke to me more, I began realizing just how ambitious ze was.

Ze opened hir mouth, and began to speak of hir blog. A simple blog by the name of "Avera's Baking Craze" grew traction due to the simple charm of being, well, a blog dedicated to the art of creating cuisine. The name is actually somewhat misleading; they make way more than simply baked treats. Crumpets, treats, you name it. Without notice nor hesitation, suddenly, ze spoke of a review; the review appeared irrelevant to the blog itself, but I listened despite it.

Ze spoke of numerous subjects; many of which were irrelevant to the review itself. Ze frequently lost track of what ze was saying, changing subjects from the way the weather delicately brushed against hir shortened wings, all the way to how ze slowly felt like ze was becoming unnoticed by society; the metaphor was stunning. Ze described hir situation as one without hope:

"A worm in a bird's world."

Hir strange way of wording this intrigued me from that point on; no longer did hir insignificant subjects feel like rambles. Ze was speaking from the heart. A heart long wasted away, attempting to recover in the only way it knew how: culinary actions.

When the topic changed even further, I had little clue how to maneuver back to the topic of reviews. From there, I chose to propose one simple question to hir.

"What inspires you to make the recipes you make?"

Hir initial reaction was surprise; evidently expected due to the way ze was speaking of clownfish on a desolate beach. However, ze quickly gained composure, inevitably managing a beautiful smile.

"Does that question have to be completely answered?"

Abashed by the response, I simply went "No."

Ze suddenly replied in a no-nonsense manner.

"What if I simply said nothing at all?"

I held no words. It made no sense at all. How could someone be so passionate as to open a blog and become renowned for their works, then come see a professional reviewer, yet have no passion for their work? How could one not be inspired to do the one thing they perfected? Surely, if I had not enjoyed my position as a reviewer, I simply would not choose to review. However, I simply looked them in the eyes.

"Then I would leave no reply."

It was strange, seeing how ze responded. Ze had shown such enthusiasm up to that point. Yet, no matter what, hir eyes didn't lie. Hir composure was immaculate. Ze was telling the truth. It stuck out like a sore thumb to my eyes; but that did not stop hir.

After this rather strange moment, we got back on the topic of reviews. Ze, once more, was looking for me to review hir recipe, yet I did not know how ze wished for me to do so. At that moment, ze stated that ze was so excited for the prospect of me consuming a handcrafted meal made by hands that weren't the initial creator's.

That's exactly when it hit me. Ze wanted me to make hir recipe and consume it.

At first, I was blown away. It is already considered poor form to seek reviews on your dish under any circumstances. Couple that with the fact that this wasn't a restaurant, and that would be more than enough to be a firm decline from me. But here and now, Avera Brimose, hir wings shining in the light, begging me to create a meal and consume it. I did not know what to say or reply in any way. I stared at hir, dumbfounded for a whole minute.

However, something sparked within me. I have been reviewing many restaurants for many years of my life. In that time, it's always the same; you go to the restaurant, consume the meal, write your thoughts, then leave without any further input. Never once have I been required to cook what I consume, I simply eat it without hesitation. Something felt wrong deep within me.

Avera continued to look at me, hir face not hiding hir excitement in the slightest. I was in a pleasant mood, and the sun made me feel most well. A single feather blew in the wind. For that single moment, that feather flew, until it inevitably fell. I looked hir straight in the eyes and said the following words.

"Why not? I see no reason to decline."

Avera sat for a moment, hir face conflicting. Ze clearly was not expecting that answer, despite how persistent and confident ze seemed. Then hir face lit up and hir confident aura returned. The emotions ze expressed cannot be written out into words; ze was too mixed in pleasure and euphoria. I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but I knew I'd go to the very end.

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The Creation
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When originally writing this, I was unsure on how to preface this point. I expected this, naturally, seeing how I have never once needed to write in this manner. It's always a leap of faith when you choose to take new actions in life, and this part of the play is a beautiful description of just that.

I opened my eye to a new opportunity in quite a strange manner. I was unsure which recipe would work best for this artistic creation. So many unique ones to choose from; how could one ever be expected to pick only one? Regardless, I felt captivated by the sense of freedom I had in this decision. So many unique options, sugar cookies galore. Pounds upon pounds of festive treats flooded my eyes, and I nearly collapsed under pressure.

However, as you may have guessed, I chose a simple recipe. One buried beneath months of feed; put in as filler for a later date. The post was almost unnoticeable, surrounded by two extraneous recipes, it was largely disregarded.

The most delightful recipe for apple cinnamon crumb cookies awaited my gentle gaze.

Admittedly, I had many more options then this simple one and could have chosen a more unique recipe. However, I made this choice because it appealed to me and me alone. The simple structure and hidden away nature of this recipe had me shining at the core. It held many unique quirks, and the product wasn't meant to be the best, but the potential hidden behind that simple recipe was one to marvel.

This one wasn't written with the normal charm that ze had in hir other posts, it was simply a clear cut form of the recipe itself. It was quite outstanding, look at it! The way it was presented gave me the bare bones and nothing more; perfect for culinary delights.

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**Ingredients:**
* 1 whole apple; unpitted
* 1.34 cups brown sugar
* 2 cups flour
* 1 cup nuts (any)
* 1 teaspoon baking soda
* 1 teaspoon nutmeg
* 1 teaspoon cinnamon
* .5 cup shortening
* 1 egg
* .5 teaspoon salt
* .25 cup milk

**Winter Glaze:**

* 1.5 cups powdered sugar
* 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
* 1 tablespoon butter
* 2 teaspoons light cream
* .5 teaspoons salt

**Constructions:**

Preheat your oven to 400. Add flour and baking soda, then mix. Mix shortening, brown sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, and egg. Stir in half flour mix to the wet ingredients. Add one cup of flour mixture, nuts, and apples. Pour in other cup of flour mixture. Drop rounded tablespoonfuls of dough onto tray, about 2" apart. Bake 11-14 minutes, or until done.

While cookies are cooking, blend all powdered sugar and butter. Add in vanilla, salt, and light cream.

When cookies finish, add on the powdered sugar frosting to the cookies and wait until slightly melted. Enjoy!

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These instructions were quite bare-bones, and admittedly I was confused at first. When reading through, I remembered my early days in the nest; those simple days when I was raised by my mother. It's strange; those memories slowly fade away from me.

Never once have I learned to cook. When I review, I typically learn about what to expect in a recipe. Despite that, I have never once cooked for myself. It's quite the surprise, seeing how my position revolves so heavily around how others cook, you'd think I would know to. No matter, I figured to myself I would learn.

I was in for a wild ride, to say the very least.

To begin, the oven preheating was something I completely disregarded. It was quite the idiotic move, but I digress. The simple fix to this was to heat it later, but the damage was done. The cookies weren't set, and the product came out slightly soggy.

Unaware of the fact I had to separate the wet's from the dry's, I put them both together and mixed as a whole. This was a dreadful mistake, as it made the final batch lumpy. It did not help that my feathers fell into the lumpy mix, further lumping the already lumped batch. Regardless, this is what I did, and it should have been clarified in the recipe itself.

I was most confused when making the winter glaze. The way the ingredients blended were difficult to understand; I assumed it would be quite the liquid, but it was very solid. I missed the line about melting, and in turn, ended up adding to much light cream.

As a whole, the recipe was quite fun to make. I have never once attempted cooking, and this was a new experience for me. I do not regret this decision, and I enjoyed what I did.

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The Consumption
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//**Note:** This part is based purely off the finished product. This will function as a standard review, not considering how I made it, but rather, how the recipe told me to make it. For this reason, this review will be seen as a review of the recipe's finished product, therefore a review of Avera's delightful meal.//

Ah yes, the review. This part can sometimes be endearing, but it normally goes by the same. This specific case is a rare exception to this precedent. I have never once in my life expected myself to have to review something of my own making, a meal nonetheless. Regardless, this review is my word, and I will not go back on what I have said.

I let the winter glaze sit atop the cookie crumble; it was a beautiful sight. The gentle melting of the frosting was what drew me in. Everything in that moment was beautiful.

I took my fork, stabbed the cookie in half, and pulled up a single morsel. As I raised it to my mouth, I noticed the way it melted as it moved; a truthfully magnificent sight. I raised it up once more, then took the final bite.

Then everything stood still for what felt like an eternity.

When I write this, I have very little way to convey my words. On one end, it is clearly evident that this food isn't the best that I have ever had. I have worked very long in this position, and could not name every meal which surpasses this lowly cookie. It has such a thick crust, such lumpy interior. It is moist on the inside, yet dry on the out. Everything in this cookie begs me to say it taste repulsively and poor.

But on that same spectrum, I have never felt more attached to a piece of food. The moment I took that bite, something deep within me changed drastically. I craved more; something which has never once occurred before. As I took more and more, I felt so strange deep within.

I began taking new bites, 7 in total. 4 cookies were eaten, and each one had me thinking a new thought.

The first one gave me ponderance. The gravity within that bite held deep within me. The way the flavors blossomed and withered simultaneously had my whole body riveting. Every chew wilted a garden and birthed an oasis.

The second bite gave me flight. My wings perked up the moment this bite flared up within me. Every blossom had me wanting to fly into the sky and never return. The delicate way the bite conveyed itself; it cannot be matched.

The third bite gave me second thoughts. Was this all a facade? Was this delectable cookie simply a mirage, awaiting the moment it can strike back? As I pondered those thoughts, I slowly began to feel more detached. My wings dampened and wilted, the oasis began to flood and corrupt. Regardless, before my brain could stop me, my hand raised the fourth bite to my mouth.

The fourth bite cleared my head and left only peace. Every blossom which once bloomed had dampened, but it did not have to stay that way. As I slowly began regaining energy, my recollection began.

The fifth bite gave me nostalgia. The thought of my nest, the way I grew to one day fly away; everything was so sweet. No matter what, this feeling would stay with me forever. The simple thought blossoms, then falters, it didn't matter. The bite alone held my childhood.

The sixth bite had me reflecting. The thoughts I grew had me whirring and whirring, until I inevitably needed to stop. The blossoms grew, but not in a way which disrupted the peace. As I began to reflect on these thoughts, only one thing was left.

As I took that final bite, contentedness filled my body. No longer did I need to worry, I had everything I ever would need.

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Closing Thoughts
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I ended the last bite on quite the note, which abashed even me. After spending more than a month reflecting on this meal, I have little to say. The meal was beautiful, and it changed something within me.

Looking beyond the meal, which I have summarized quite well, this did more for me than simply release euphoria onto my taste buds. As I slowly began to remember more and more of what I experienced, I was unsure on what to do next. I laid in my bed, neglecting dinner; the cookie satisfied me more than enough. The amount of time I spent conflicted may have broken even me.

I ate the next day, of course, but I went back to thinking. This recipe was beautiful, yet not one thing inspired the way it was made. All that happened was the creation of it. Nothing pushed the recipe into existence, it simply occurred. How could Avera make such a recipe, yet not be inspired for it at all?

I thought back to how ze referred to hirself. So cocky, so arrogant. Despite that, I had little negative to say on hir. Sometimes, I let myself accept no answer at all. This was not one of those times.

Maybe ze simply wanted to create something. Maybe ze predicted what was needed. Maybe the aura within the air influenced hir actions.

Maybe it isn't as deep as I think.

I don't plan on doing anything like this again. I learned what I needed to, and it shows. Doing this again seems redundant, yet something within me tells me this won't be the last time I see Avera. This won't be the only time I think of this review.

Maybe that's what matters here. Nothing more than the incentive of others.

Maybe that's how we grow our wings.

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Bill Reviews: The Bird Is The Word

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