Confessions of a wanna-be-baker:
“you can’t buy happiness. but you can
buy make cupcakes. and that’s
kind of the same thing.” —?
This life according to Lu, my ambition to be a baker.
I’m an anomaly. While most young girls’ life ambition/adulthood consists of cliched answers like ballerinas or mothers, even school teachers, without fail, I picked the humble profession of farmer (pronounced “FAH-MA.” Ugh r’s were impossible). I envisioned life playing with the cutest of animals, (read cows, chickens, horses, ranch dogs) surrounded solely by nature and wearing a plethora of overalls & plaid.
Eventually, said dream morphed into becoming a writer or novelist and has yet to re-alter. I love words, the ability to create an image by stringing together diction–carefully debating which syllables complement each other and which can fully convey the thoughts inside my head. I’m easily inspired and for some odd reason, feel as though I have a story to tell…with a passion for photography on the side.
Like I said, such is my dream, but secretly, I want to be a baker. It should come as no surprise–though perhaps, we aren’t that well acquainted–chocolate is my kryptonite. Whoever said “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels” clearly never OD’d on cookie dough, tasted a brigadeiro, or spent Christmas at my house, in which we (and by we I mean I) bake easily a dozen different cookie flavors–sugar, peanut butter blossoms and fudge are staples, the rest are up for debate. (Cake box cookies, thumbprints, snickerdoodle, red velvet, gingerbread, chocolate chip, turtle, crinkles)
I can spend hours perusing baking blogs to search for a new recipe. Recently, I baked banana bread, in which I carefully argued a cinnamon crust or a peanut butter chocolate chip. Ultimately I went back to basics: everything tastes better with peanut butter.
Now, with the arrival of Easter, I am thoroughly browsing blondies, pizzokies, brownies and cookie recipes, to decide what to bake with my purchase of Easter theme M&M’s. (I clearly purchased regular and the PB filled). I am insanely jealous of baking bloggers who have turned their career into their hobby (I’m talking to you Sally’s Baking Addiction), altering recipes and experimenting with foods–the way I examine words and sounds. Like this peek-a-boo cake I made last fall:
Anything I bake is homemade. Screw mixes and pre-made doughs! That baby was quite the beast, a pound cake with a pumpkin bread inside and a sweet frosting. Does anyone else frequently dream of chocolate chips or is this just a problem of a wanna-be-baker? Sigh.