We bake to celebrate birthdays and unions, and to mark life’s big milestones. We don’t bake sweet to survive or to simply sustain. It is a gift, a powerful elixir of pleasure, connection, generosity and joy.
My kind of baking is about nurturing and building, about preparing and following procedures, and not jumping too far ahead. It asks you to check and then check again. It asks you to bake a pastry to the right shade of deep golden brown and not the pale softness found 15 minutes prior. It asks you to whip the cream into billowy peaks and then stop.
My kind of baking also wants you to feel supported, with a backup plan in case anything should go wrong.
Be present: life in the kitchen is made up of small moments. Deciphering the crumbs on a skewer, examining the hold on the foam of just-whisked eggs, cradling the base of a mixer bowl with your hands to check the temperature of what it holds.
When taken together, all of these small moments make up something greater, and by being present for that small stuff, we can all make larger, more extraordinary moments of deliciousness.