I have never been much of a baker. Growing up, I always wanted to be that person that made everything from scratch, that always had a fresh-baked loaf of bread, and that made cookies and brownies from scratch instead of from a box. No matter how hard I tried, though, it never worked for me.
I made sugar cookies one year for Christmas and they were…okay. I got comments about how they could taste the flour or the baking soda wasn’t mixed in all the way. Nothing really constructive…just criticism.
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These comments deterred me from baking, really. I’m the type of person that doesn’t like to be wrong or look stupid. It’s a mental health and trauma thing and I’m working on it, but hearing these comments in a way that wasn’t constructive criticism got me down in a way that I wasn’t comfortable with. So, I just gave up.
Over the years, this has changed. I have found some level of comfort in the kitchen - as long as I’ve got a base recipe to follow - and I’ve grown to enjoy baking and cooking from scratch. Normally things work out well. Sometimes they don’t. The important thing that I’ve learned, though, is that this is important to me. This is something I enjoy doing. I enjoy making these things and I enjoy it when my family likes what I make.
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So, baking bread is important to me for reasons that I can’t quite put into words. The art of baking has made me more confident in my skills, but it also gives me a connection to my ancestors in a way that makes me feel good.
This LĂşnasa, baking bread is one thing I am thankful for. I plan to do much more of it from here on out - trying new recipes, new flavors, and new methods. The connection to myself, my heritage, and my ancestors through baking a simple loaf of bread is astounding and definitely worth the mess I make in the kitchen.