Lessons from Baking
I have made sixty bakes over the last twelve months. Some wins, some losses. Seasonal bakes and celebration bakes. Cakes, quiches, tarts, pasties, pastries, puddings, pies, meringues, muffins, loafs, buns, biscuits, cookies and scones. Baking has grown into a true love of mine and I knew it would only be a matter of time before I married baking with my other love, writing. So here it is: My ode to baking.
As some of you know, I sank into a muddy depression this time last year. I tiredly watched depression steal things from me as life became duller day to day. My counsellor advised me to do more things that I enjoy. I told her that nothing felt joyous anymore, but corrected myself by musing that baking didn’t feel like a chore. She replied, “So then bake!” Looking back, baking was medicine during my depression and I invite you to join me in wondering why.
Lessons from Baking
Humility. Soon after my counsellor’s advice, I wanted to eat shortbread. Thanks to my British heritage (instilling pride in baking), and growing up with a Mum who bakes, I figured this recipe was somewhat beneath me. I was wrong. Making soft, buttery, crumbly shortbread that melts in your mouth is by no means incidental. Often over the last year I have approached recipes with confidence that has become quickly humbled. Baking takes skill, knowledge and practice, most of which I don’t have in impressive measures, yet.
Control. Baking is great for people with control issues, like me. Any illusion of control is dispelled once you peek in the oven mid-bake. Neat, even surfaces begin to bubble and rise in rebellious angles. Colours dull, edges crisp and sponges sink. What you put into the oven bears little resemblance to what you pull out, and that’s okay. You don’t get to edit the final piece much. Baking is thus also good for perfectionists.
Play. I recently read that play is important for mental health. I think it’s important for marriage, too. Life can feel serious, especially true for people like me who enjoy solitude and deep thought. Play brings back balance. It is time without an agenda; without pressure to produce or to make decisions. Baking, for me, counts as play as I roll up my sleeves and press my knuckles into dough.
Learning. If you enjoy endless learning, baking is the hobby for you. Few things delight me more than knowing there is more to learn about something (in fact, this is one of my greatest delights in the Christian faith). In the world of baking, you can delve into science, or hands-on learning. You can learn about breads, French patisserie, decorated cakes, sweet and savoury tarts, chocolate, sugar-work and much more.
Movement. Is it just me or does life feel achier as you go? I have tailbone problems that makes sitting painful, but standing still on the spot doesn’t feel great either. When I bake, I don’t feel pain. I’m not sure if that’s due to distraction or because I’m moving and using my body in different ways throughout, but baking has been pain relief for me.
Slowness. When I bake, I bake slow. I savour a recipe like holding chocolate in my mouth. I fuss, setting aside all the utensils, measuring the ingredients into little bowls, and then work rhythmically through a recipe. I stop to take pictures and pause to wash dishes. In most corners of my life, slowness is an unnatural discipline I have to force, but in baking it comes easily.
Books. Baking has kindled my love for the local library. I trot regularly to the library’s recipe section and borrow books or find an armchair to sift through pages. One treasure I found was the Baking Answer Book, which preceded two weeks of saying to my husband Nate, “Did you know THIS is why they recommend dissolving yeast in warm water?” and other neat facts. Baking also pairs well with listening to an audiobook, especially for the slow bits where dough is rising, sponge is baking or cookies are cooling. I have listened to fifteen books this year.
Joy. It is satisfying (albeit sometimes rare) to get a recipe spot on. Challenging myself to try something new feels rewarding when it goes well, and gives me a sense of accomplishment. Baking has added structure to a structureless time for me. And it’s thrilling to see the good bakes get gobbled quickly.
