Four sticks of butter sit dented and disordered on my dashboard, brushed by fading light and soft to the touch. Behind me, a dozen eggs rest snugly in their carton, cradled gently by a hoodie strewn over the backseat. A curious location, perhaps, for such things, but thoughtful, no doubt; my ingredients are sure to be room temperature by the time I arrive home, and then I can bake. There's
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