In America I never had a reason to bake. My sister was the resident Betty Crocker.
Recently, I have become quite adept at the whole baking thing. Now that I see my ‘red oven’ as soon as I walk through my front door it’s kind of hard to resist.
It took my landlady a few weeks to realize that I was just baking things because I felt like it - or because I needed the stress relief. (Izzie Stevens anyone?) Not in honour of impending visitors. But now that she’s figured it out, she provides the eggs for my endeavors and we split the outcome.
In fact she made her husband (my landlord) take her own ‘red oven’ to the repair shop, so that she can make her own cakes and cookies. We made my landlord an apple cake for his birthday.
I usually end up making something at least once a week. I would be happy to share recipes. But I’ve misplaced my cookbook.
My favorite so far: chocolate hazelnut bread. ☺
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I love baking. I think it's a genetic thing. My mother, like her mother before her, and probably going back all 5000+ years of the Jew's existence, had baked to garner people's good opinions and express a general affection.
ReplyDelete