Why do you bake? Do you bake for the aromas of a sweet buttered croissant slowly overwhelming your home or the bittersweet taste of a childhood favorite? I can’t say either, not to negate either reason. My drive in the kitchen trickles from the elements of imperfection, inspiring me to seek growth. I love the unpredictability of baking: will the baking soda collapse into chunks of dust or collect into a beautiful seal of a chocolate chip cookie? I don’t know. That’s the beauty of baking.
Behind the screen, many of my viewers like yourself would never see the imperfections derived from my recipes—the spontaneity of their creation. In moments like these, I find my growth. A growth propelled by the beauty of thought and expression, an ability to divulge beyond stagnation. Moreover, stagnation from the imbalance of my ingredients. I have learned to embrace imbalance and deny certainty, a certainty that confines me to the same three, four elements or bounds by which to live.
Baking is something that has taught me the beauty of experimentation. I have dabbled among ingredients and put forth my best in attempts to satisfy my equation. By product of my experiments, reap zestful lemon tarts or pungent, sour puddings. The only thing I provide my recipes is a name, a name to comfort its beauty. A beauty filling our stomachs with joy, enriching our nature, and providing the energy to love and admire its unfathomable beauty.
(See Picture: Piping Bag Bursts)
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