the correlation between baking and going insane
and by going insane I actually mean remaining level headed
I want to dissect my recent propensity for baking as I brown some butter on the hob. Why exactly am I standing with one hand on my hip as I watch globs of yellow melt in a small milk pan probably not fit for this purpose on a Saturday night? I’m not entirely sure. I could be out doing many, many other things… dancing on a table in a dingy-but-cool Soho bar for one or engrossed in a show on the West End, but I’m here. And later I’ll be laboriously scrubbing the slightly charred remnants off the bottom of this pan or face the taste of caramelly butter in other dishes I prepare next week.
Before you ask, I’m making Brown Butter Miso Chocolate Chip Cookies (thank you butternutbakeryblog) which I’ve been perfecting for a while now, preparing batches every few weeks. They’re very delicious and once I’m done I’ll have a midnight snack that I can dunk in a glass of cold milk. Sometimes I feel like Jenna in ‘The Waitress’, wearing an apron and making elaborate and exciting pies from scratch, wondering if this culinary journey will lead me down a path where I open a bakery or start some cookie side hustle in my garage... Last week I made a sour cream coffee cake with crumb topping so I think we’re getting close. I resonate with Annie in ‘Bridesmaids’ too, especially when she makes a fancy cupcake and then eats it on her own.
I’ve always loved to bake, I remember standing on a stool in the kitchen next to my mum when I was younger as my brother and I spooned pale, vanilla cake mix into teeny tiny wrappers. She’d also bought a silver mini cupcake tray especially that I think has since gone to the big skip in the sky. Growing up I evolved my mum’s school food tech recipe of ‘bonfire brownies’ into a household favourite, frequently experimenting with cooking times and adding Nutella and different chocolate chips to see what flavour combinations I could create - remember there was a time people used to put chocolate spread in everything? Why did we do that? This is also definitely not advisable, but I stayed with my Ma as a child and she made me cake mix (butter and sugar) for dinner on a very special occasion. Whenever I have a little teaspoon of batter halfway through baking something now, I’m reminded of those days.
The original title for this newsletter was going to be ‘catastrophic signal point failure’ - a new term I committed to memory on a delayed commute home last week as I stood in the train vestibule between two men who were loudly discussing golf. One of those moments where my past, present and future flashed before my eyes, I slipped into an alternate cooking reality until the train crept along the tracks again. In my other world, I was happily making a gingerbread cake, chewy molasses biscuits that have that perfect crack texture on top, or melty triple chocolate chip cookies. My kitchen was stainless steel and concrete, and I had a lot of bowls, and teaspoon measurements that weren’t attached by a loop on the handle. There was enough counter space for a stand mixer and those plastic containers chefs use. I had separated my flour and sugars into tubs with neon tape stuck on the lids. I’d also had my hair blowdried and my nails were done.
If I start by doing some light introspection into my own newfound desire to pretend to be Ina Garten or Nigella, I can quickly deduce several reasons as to why I’m perched over this pan of butter like a bird watching its eggs crack in the nest.
Reason one - I really like being alone. Social media has made us feel faux-connected to people, and it’s not normal to know so much about strangers you’ve never met (I’m really happy about your surprise engagement in the Swiss Alps… I think?) I also find it weird to know so much about people I have met. There’s a degree of relief in building a life that’s just that bit untethered to everyone else. Baking keeps me away from my phone for several hours so I can become a 5% off-grid as well. I love cooking alone. Going to restaurants alone. Travelling alone. Running alone. Writing alone. It’s pretty rewarding to sit in the discomfort (and comfort) of my own presence and not go completely insane.
Reason two - Baking might be one of my love languages, which is at odds with the whole ‘I prefer being alone, no one understand me but me’ thing I’ve got going on at the moment. When I like a guy, the chemicals in my brain just want me to look at different springform pan sizes and scoop out perfectly level cups of brown sugar so I can say “Oh… what this?? This 10-tier cake with freshly made jam filling and Swiss meringue buttercream?? This was something I literally just rustled up in the kitchen, no big deal, I only used 10 eggs, and it took me 12 hours”.
I’ve noticed a lot of people on social media feel this way too, using baking as a distraction when they have a crush. Does anyone know the exact science behind this? Do we hope the process of baking a cake will make us feel better? I don’t have the answers.
I like taking baked goods to my friends and family members in ziplock bags or wrapped haphazardly in tinfoil like a homemade science project too.
Reason three - I see baking as my ultimate way to unwind, it helps take the edge off, like uncorking a really good bottle of *insert name of fancy wine*. You can put a show on (or in my case, play rockman by mk.gee 42 times) and enjoy the process of creating something right from scratch. I love baking banana bread, sponge cake, brownies and cookies. I successfully made pumpkin pie a few weeks ago and my next mission will be some seasonal extravaganza.
Reason four - It’s a light foray into risk taking. I’m a pretttttty risk averse person (if that wasn’t already apparent) but baking encourages me to try my hand at some jeopardy. If I’m following a new recipe or using a different kind of butter (??) I’m really putting my chef skills on the line. It’s my time, reputation, investment in ingredients and management of expectations that I have to consider as I crouch on the floor in front of the oven and peer through the glass. “I’ve already told everyone I’m making a coffee cake so if this fucks up, I’m toast” says the voice in my head.
I can confirm there’s no greater sinking feeling (ha) than pulling a flat cake out of the oven.
Reason five - The aesthetic of baking. I don’t have the scalloped-edge cake stands and fancy knives that other chefs might have to really make their creations Instagram friendly, but I remain of the belief that store-bought cakes don’t look even nearly the same as baked goods prepared lovingly at home. There’s something perfect about a lopsided, uneven cake with jam oozing out the side or knife marks in the icing where someone has tried to create a smooth topping.
The only exception to this might be croissants.
Rockman is still playing in the background and I need to turn it off, until the next one,
Lory x
I Absolutely love this 🫶🏻