On a stressful evening during my sophomore year of high school, I started baking to avoid studying for an AP exam.
It all began with a batch of chocolate chip cookies I made from scratch. The recipe came off the back of a Nestlé chocolate chip bag, simple enough that even a child could follow along.
I gathered the ingredients in front of me in perfect measurements as Joni Mitchell’s album “Blue” radiated through the kitchen. I combined the wet and dry ingredients, folded in the chocolate chips and placed the dough on a pan in the oven. My face was inches from the glass door, anxiously watching the cookies rise as they baked. When I finally took them out of the oven, they looked and smelled perfect.
My hard work seemingly paid off, and I felt proud of my accomplishments. It wasn’t until I ate one that I realized I had messed up the recipe. I used sea salt instead of regular salt, which made the cookies have a grainy texture and horrendous taste. My brother, who was waiting patiently to try the cookies, was so upset by my mistake that he made his own, perfect cookies.
Messing up the cookies was humbling, especially since my brother used the same recipe to make a flawless batch of cookies, but I also felt a sense of relief. Although the outcome of my baking was not ideal, it relieved me from the pressure and anxiety of studying.
Since that day, I’ve continued to bake frequently but I wouldn’t say it’s a passion of mine, and I wouldn’t even call myself an adequate baker. I often miss an ingredient, add too much water, drop eggshells or confuse baking powder for baking soda, occasionally resulting in inedible food. I rarely bake a perfect treat, but the imperfection of my baking never outweighs my content during the process.
When the opportunity arises, or when I’m feeling stressed and anxious, I make items like muffins, bread loaves, cakes, pies and cookies, or anything that can be made using a simple follow-along recipe.
During my sophomore year of college, I made each of my friends a specialized cake for their birthdays. That year I was prescribed Accutane, an oral acne medication, and I experienced side effects that negatively affected my mood and made me fear the mundane parts of the day. Baking cakes became a meditative outlet to face anxieties caused by the medication.
Baking birthday cakes for my friends soon became an expression of adoration and appreciation. I would ask each person their favorite colors and flavors so I could bake them the cake of their dreams.
I made seven cakes that year. The first one I made was rough, to say the least. The sponge fell apart because I made it too moist and the icing stuck to all the crumbling pieces. It ended up being a jumbled mess, but by my seventh attempt, I made a perfect chocolate cake with strawberry icing.
Through repeated trial and error, I realized there was so much to be learned from making mistakes and baking imperfectly. As I continued to improve my skills, I transformed baking into an expression of love towards my friends and myself. I mastered turning raw ingredients into a delicious reality and sharing it with those I care about most.
Lately, I’ve rekindled my love for baking as a way to cope with the stress of work, school and my impending graduation. I’ve been particularly focused on baking pumpkin-flavored treats, especially pumpkin bread. The recipe was passed down to me by my grandmother, and I’ve been striving to perfect it.
I’ve begun refining the recipe, finding what icing works best with the loaf and how to get the most unique flavor combinations. I’ve experimented with regular pumpkin bread by adding chocolate chips and cream cheese icing, or by including different spices like cinnamon and ginger.
The pumpkin bread has been an outlet for when I feel I have no control over my own life. The few hours I spent measuring and combining the ingredients have transformed into a meditative medium. When I bake, it feels like I’m able to control that one task and alleviate my anxieties.
Although I enjoy baking, I never do it as a source of true artistic expression. I bake as a source of catharsis — it’s an area I go to when I need to let off some steam. I’ve come to accept that I am a stress baker. I’m not very good at it, but it’s one of the key emotional outlets I have.
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