Pre-birthday baking...

Today was a day of home. I baked (lots) and  cleared and cleaned and generally went round my house like one of those genuine mail order brides you read about, but almost never meet.  Mostly I enjoyed it, but right at this moment, as I sit waiting for another tray of cookies to emerge from the oven, I realise that I am not as young as I once was and don't have quite the stamina that I used to.

Obvious, you might think.  After all the cause of the baking is my birthday tomorrow.  Not for me the easy way out. I am surrounded by bakeries, patisseries, artisanal shops where someone like me slaves over a hot oven to bake things that women can serve on their birthdays and yet, I do not go and buy any of these things.  I insist on doing it myself. Right now I ask myself why?

My mother used to bake all the time.  She would have some sort of cake or cookies ready for us when we came home from school.  Mostly the baking happened on Fridays and I can remember the fantastic smell of baking that would greet me as I walked in the door.  Actually, my mother's kitchen always had the wonderful smells of cooking emanating from it.  If it wasn't my favourite split pea soup, it was chicken fricasee or apple cake.  I ate like royalty when I was young.  Maybe this is why I eat like Henry the Eighth now!

What a joy it is to be able to emulate my mum and create good food.  I love, love, love to cook.  When I spend a few days at the Humaniversity in Holland the thing I enjoy the most is the cooking.  To be able to have a huge,well-equipped kitchen with all mod cons is a dream fulfilled. So actually, today was not at all a trial, but a pure pleasure.

There is only one major problem with baking and cooking and that's the eating.  I am married to a wonderful man who never complains if there is no dinner on the table and is remarkably appreciative when there is anything resembling a meal that has taken the slightest effort.  He eats pretty much everything, but with the kind of restraint that I have never been able to develop.  If I bake a cake, he will have one slice, when I hand it to him, and then he'll forget all about the existence of said cake.  Three or four days later, he might recall some sort of cake and ask for a piece.  Of course, by this time I will have demolished all but a few crumbs.  And there is the problem with being married to Jack Spratt. He can go whole days without noshing - amazing!

I brought a few slices of cake and some cookies to the people who run the local corner shop.  I've known this wonderful Greek-Cypriot family for years and we've become good neighbours.  They've seen my kids grow up and I've watched their children get married, have their own children and take over the running of the shop.  The younger son is opening a cafe/restaurant next door to the shop and wants me to be the resident cake baker.  At the moment we're joking about it, but he's actually serious and I am considering it as a possibility. My training work does give me time during the week to take on something else and maybe this is it.

So, on the eve of becoming 61, what have I learned this year?  I've learned to be a little less hard on myself and I've learned that if I am willing to let go of my resentments and hurts, they go away.  I've also learned that there can never be enough good cheesecake in the world.