Baking

I have many hobbies. Videogames, puzzles, reading. But the hobby that has taken an elevated place in my life is baking.

When I was growing up, my mom had a tradition of baking a variety of cookies at Christmas, making baskets, and taking the baskets to the houses of friends and family to visit and share the spirit of the season. As we got older, my three younger siblings and I took over all the baking duties, adding our personal friends to the list and driving around town to visit and share Christmas games and exchange cards.

Baking, for me, was something that I did to bond with my siblings; late nights spent in the kitchen, laughing and talking and singing along to Christmas carols, with card games and video games thrown in while things were in the oven. We loved drinking apple cider and pretending that we were at fancy parties, even though we were all clad in our fuzzy pajama bottoms and oversized t-shirts. Competitions to see who could use icing in the most creative or outrageous way were a favorite part of the process. My sister had the best wrapping skills, so she was in charge of curling the ribbons on the fancy-wrapped plates of cookies, while I labeled, organized, and double-checked that we had a plate for everyone.

I fell out of baking when I moved out and started my career as a teacher. There just wasn't enough time as I tried to figure out how to balance grading, planning, and taking care of myself. Later, I had a roommate who was an amazing baker, and that dissuaded me from baking. (I'm a highly competitive person, and when he began to bake with some regularity, I knew that I would be upset if he baked something better than I did.)

I would occasionally revive the Christmas tradition for my coworkers, though nowhere near the scale that my mom and siblings had done. In fact, it wasn't until this past year that I got back into baking - and outside of just Christmas.

After my anemia diagnosis and during my subsequent doctor's appointments, I started baking as a form of stress release. There was just something about the care and precision required for baking that allowed me to forget my troubles and relax. I knew that I didn't need to eat all of the bread and sweets on my own, so it became part of the ritual to package up the goods, bring them to school, and send out a group text asking if anyone wanted any.

Over the months, it became well-known on the third floor that I was the baker. I was even getting requests, something I relished. I loved the smiles and excitement when I told people what I was bringing. It felt so good sharing that with everyone, and it gave me something else to focus on rather than all of the stress that I was under. Even something as basic as a cinnamon roll cake made everyone excited, though I couldn't figure out why for the longest time. Then I realized that it was that community connection that my siblings and I experienced when I was young. It was special because I went out of my way, bought the groceries, and spent the time to bake for them. I did these things because it gave me a certain satisfaction and made me feel more like I was contributing to the community. I may not be the one to crack jokes or lead a conversation, but I can bring you some pound cake!

In addition to my school community, I was able to bake for my dad and stepmom as well as my boyfriend and his son. I learned how to make a lemon meringue pie for my boyfriend's birthday, with some tips from my stepmom who made one for my dad (also his favorite pie). That also added to my enjoyment, the sharing of that experience with all of them.

I used to always wear a specific apron when I baked, passed down to me from my Dad: a white bib apron with a Japanese character on it, obtained in Japan where I was born (I think that's where it's from, anyway). I always felt like a fancy pastry chef when I wore it. I can't find that apron for the life of me, and I keep thinking that I should buy a new apron. Maybe I'll get myself one for Christmas. But that, too, was a part of the ritual; things passed down from parents to children, like my mom's recipe for challah, taken from the pages of a Joy of Cooking cookbook, or her creole pie recipe.

Baking, it seems, is more than just baking. It is an expression of community and love, traditions that I am happy to be a part of.

My health is back on level ground now, and my baking has calmed down over the summer - after all, I didn't have people to bring the excess snacks to! But I still plan to bake on a more regular basis, maybe to celebrate milestones or just getting through difficult weeks. All in all, I'm glad that I have a hobby that doesn't just benefit me, but others as well.