Anxiety Baking
I struggled in math and science in school, I only read eighty percent of directions, and I improvise if I don’t have all of the ingredients. For these reasons, I surprise people when I bake. “Oh no, talk to me, what happened? “ my friend Kate uses my baking as an emotional barometer. When my Mom’s cancer came back in her mastectomy scar, Kate came to my house and found me covered in flour. Mixing sugar and eggs into a new form is my yoga practice. If I am wound up, the act of baking slows me down. Forced to focus my attention on measuring and reading a recipe, I am in the moment and my anxiety decreases. Last year, bread was baked across the world and people shared this COVID-pandemic coping mechanism. Baking is an underrated mindfulness activity.
When I pull the treat out of the oven, I have a sweet dessert to enjoy and share. Have you ever seen a grumpy person eating a gooey chocolate chip cookie warm from the over? If someone pops into my kitchen during the process, and I can pass them a spoonful of oatmeal chip batter, filling us both up. Cooking and baking are a way to creatively express myself and I love to share this gift with friends and family. Growing up our kitchen was filled with the flavors of warm baked treats. My mom wasn’t a gourmet cook, but she did bake up a storm, and we snuck into the kitchen to steal a treat off the cooling rack. She loved to whip up a batch of oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies, loaded with walnuts even when we begged her to leave the nuts out. Snickerdoodles, devil dogs, apple pie and granola decorated our kitchen counters. We were able to indulge in moderation since these goodies were an everyday occurrence. Many friends would visit and not be able to control themselves, gobbling up every cookie in sight. Baking was her way to spread joy.
Ironically, I married a cookie monster. Todd loves to bake but is meticulous about measuring and following the recipe EXACTLY down to the suggestions of the order of ingredients into the bowl. “C’mon, does it really matter if the sugar follows the flour or jumps in ahead of schedule?” I tease. Todd also memorizes the recipe so he can make cookies any home we visit. Mason also bakes and creates healthier versions of old favorites, while Tyler cooks savory dishes, but they each love to experiment in the kitchen. That is how they give back joy to me. Nothing tastes sweeter than something made in my kitchen, but not cooked by me. When they were smaller, I was not patient if we were playing games with the boys, but I could spend hours with them in our kitchen. Baking can be a great way to connect as a family.
In their preteen years, sugar started getting a bad rap. Todd had to cut-back on his nightly hot fudge sundaes, and I had to cut back on cookies. I started making granola as a healthy breakfast alternative. Each week I would bake a new batch and place it in a glass canister on our kitchen counter. I remember the exact yellow cookie sheet my mom would use when she would bake granola in our kitchen in Belmont when I was in middle school. The act of baking instantly warmed me with nostalgia.
For a few years, I was the only one who would eat my granola on my fruit and yogurt breakfast bowl. The seed and nut mixture turned off my crew. I would bring some in a Mason jar when we visited friends and I began delivering to friends when they needed a pick-me-up, were ill, or taking care of a sick family member. Eventually Todd swapped out his cereal with a to-go cup of yogurt, fruit and granola for his drive to work. Not sure when the boys followed, but I now make a double-batch each Sunday. We all enjoy a sprinkle on our breakfast or a handful as a snack. I have it ready when I need to deliver to a friend who needs a boost. It’s my way of sprinkling a little joy, straight from my kitchen to theirs.
Whether you are baking to ease your own stress, to connect to your senses or family, or to express your creativity, the end result will spread a little more joy. Or I have just given you the perfect excuse to dive into that warm apple pie.
