My loved ones are often the victims of my baking. I say “victims”,because it is not always pleasant to have baked goods lying around when you’re trying to watch your diet, and not everyone I know has a sweet tooth quite as intense as mine.
Thankfully, my immediate family are the grateful recipients of my baking. They love the craft as much as I do, perhaps not for the act of it, but for the products. Me, though, I enjoy the act of baking almost as much as I love the results. There is something utterly rewarding about constructing or finding and following a recipe to yield an edible result. The act of creation is gratifying whatever it may be, whether it a piece of art or a piece of cake.
Occasionally baking can be both. When I worked at a bakery, the cake decorators were some of the most talented artist I had ever met. They did with fragile icing and unruly buttercream what most could never do with a pencil. Baking is a fun way to satisfy one’s creative outlet.
Baking is perhaps my favorite hobby. Nothing passes a rainy day, or brightens it up, quite like whipping up some delightful treat. And nothing (with maybe the exception of yoga) is so good at washing away stress. When I’m baking, the everyday stressors of life slip away, and it is just me, my kitchen, and my creating.
What I love most about baking is the ability to spoil those I love with treats I have generated with my two hands. A birthday cake, a get-well pie, a congratulatory batch of cookies, baking is the perfect way to mark any occasion. But nothing says “I love you,” quite like an unexpected sweet. For me, my baked goods are synonymous with love, and I will always love embarking on the creation of love.
