I believe in the power of baking. When Katherine, Bryan, and Emily, my nieces and nephew, run into my house, the first thing they always ask is “can we bake?” Staring back into those innocent young eyes, how can I resist? So I say, “Of course! What do you want to bake?” They all look at me and scream “CAKE!!”
The process of baking is something I would never trade for anything, especially when it’s with Katherine, Bryan, and Emily. We first have to gather all of the ingredients, where we all work together. These fundamentals of the cake are sometimes the most challenging. They may be too heavy to carry, or not all of them may be available. Yet, in the end, if we search hard enough, we do find what we need.
Since there are three of them, everything has to be split into three. Each of them crack an egg, each of them add some flour, and the list goes on. They have to take turns, help each other crack the egg, smell each ingredient as it is added into the bowl. My favorite part of this whole step is when they smell the vanilla, each of them moan and say “mmmm… That’s my favorite. Daddy adds it to my oatmeal in the morning all the time.” We count as each egg thumps into the bowl and count the numbers on the side of the standing mixer. As I turn the mixer on, Bryan says “make sure not to put your hands inside when the mixers on. Otherwise you’ll get a big boo boo.” It makes me happy when he says this because I always would say it to them. After each ingredient is mixed in, you have to watch because these sneaky little kids always seem to have to try the batter, sticking their fingers in after each addition and licking off the yummy goodness.
Once we add the batter to the cake pan and put it in the oven, I take a deep breath. This half hour is the longest half hour of my life. Not because I want the cake so badly, but because I want it to come out perfectly, not burnt, but golden brown. If it’s burnt, then you have four very unhappy people, three of whom are little people, and when they are unhappy, no one is happy. You have to watch for that delicious smell, that smell of comfort and hominess. This is when you know it’s done. I take it out of the oven and all I hear in the background, besides screaming children, is “can we eat it yet?” And my response like always, “no we have to wait for it to cool so we could frost!”
Making the frosting is a similar process to making the cake; taking turns, helping each other out, and of course, tasting each step of the way. I add the confectioners sugar and turn the mixer on. All of a sudden I hear screams and laughs, the confectioners sugar got everywhere except for the bowl! We tweak the flavoring with salt, vanilla, and milk, and now its time to decorate!
Turning out the cake onto the plate is always the most nerve-racking, a game of push and pull. When it finally comes out perfectly, I give out a huge sigh of relief. “Frost! Frost! Frost!” is all Katherine, Bryan, and Emily are paying attention to, of course only caring about the sugar. Each of them get the opportunity to spread the luscious frosting onto the cooled cake, their eyes in full concentration mode.
As we are finished, we bring the cake over to the table and all of a sudden, I see little finger marks all over the side of the cake. “Yummy! This is the best cake ever!” They always say this, each time with a larger smile on their face. The best compliment I could ever receive is seeing those finger marks, watching them devour the cake, listening to Emily moan the entire time, and know that I brought joy and love to them. I love to bake; baking for me is love, life, and family.