“Never say never” is cliche, but it is true. My “I hate baking” era has ended and the rewarding duty that is making homemade goods for your family, is off to a very sweet beginning. While I have always made wholesome, real, à la carte, wood-hippy-like food for my children, there is an elegance to the proper processes of cooking… it is intentional, special, welcoming… and so, I want my children to understand that anything really awe-worthy, is met with passion and attention.
Schedules and chores and dishes aside… this is another way we can demonstrate the art of building… at the center of the home, in a room where people gather.
Months ago, Matt’s son Luka directed me towards a tiny old cookbook at the farm, “you might wanna flip through that one of these days when the kids are in school.” He said. So I packed it in my oversized suede purse and have indeed been flipping through it. Studying both the simplicity and complexity of sugary and savory (mostly sugary) baked items, I am slowly teaching myself the language of baking. Amidst the endless virtual book clubs and chatter of podcasts, we forget reading a manual is fine too.
All of the recipes are very plain, basic, old fashioned… none of them say the amount of flour, what temperature to set the oven to, or how long a pie should be in there for. I lick my thumbs and turn pages using Maddox’s “I FOLLOW DIRECTIONS IN ART” paper bracelet from last week as my bookmark. No search bar! Many of the dishes call for sour milk! Lard! Shortening! One of my adapted cookie inventions currently on it’s eleventh try… Anyhow, it has been a nice guide, and I have now created my own imaginative staples.
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