Hardly a week goes by without me baking something. Banana bread was my introduction, my mother allowing me to help her fold the batter while I could still fit on the kitchen counter. Over the years, I have found reasons to bake. In an attempt to get my weekly quota of baking in and not become diabetic, I started to give away goodies.
Keeping them in that (oh-so-elusive) airtight container for ‘later’ doesn’t work. Munching with friends is gratifying when you start to rake in compliments until you realise that no one will finish the darn things. Most people are obliging enough to take them home but I can’t keep doing that. I’ve decided to by-pass all the insisting and hurried foil-wrapping. Who am I kidding? That still happens, but now more than ever, I enjoy being an anonymous giver.
I joined a festive goodwill cookie-baking drive for a local charity and it was one of the most satisfying uses of my time. The best part? I wasn’t baking to de-stress. I wasn’t doing it for me.
p.s. (clockwise): first ever successful shortbread with almond flakes which was duly munched by moi, busy baking happiness table, the white chocolate chip cookies dipped in dark chocolate and my vintage Tala card suit ‘sandwich cutter’ which I re-christened a cookie-cutter.