However, today is different. As I approached the side door, I catch the scent of baking, and my curiosity is stirred as I think of all the possibilities that could be awaiting me on the other side of the door. Stepping inside, whiffs of melting chocolate and warm peanut butter greet me along with a friendly welcome from my mother, which could only mean one thing—Peanut Butter Brownies. Sometimes sans chocolate, sometimes with Nestlé’s sweet chocolate chips, or best of all, with Giadorelli’s rich, dark chocolate that my mother purchases in bulk, these brownies are highly regarded as one of the most delectable deserts in our home. However, this also means that they are often out of stock in the mad rush to relish them. Today was a treat—I was first in line—the first taste tester while they were still warm and soft.
There’s something about baking that takes me back well before there were microwaves and fast food restaurants at every corner, where preparing meals took time, and when people didn’t just work for the end result, but enjoyed the process. There’s something we’ve missed in the busyness of life, and it’s not a change for the better. Chemicals have replaced nutrients and instead of wholesome food that, yes, takes time to grow and prepare, we cut corners and chose the “simple” cake mix that is advertised to be quick and easy. There will never be a comparison between a cake mix and true baking from scratch—once someone has experienced the truly delectable cake, lovingly created with a sacrifice of time and effort, he or she will never be the same.
Last year I lived in an apartment during a 3 month long internship in Lawrenceville, GA. It just so happened that during that internship, one of my leaders had a birthday, so I decided I was going to bake two of my favorites for his surprise birthday party—a creamy coffee cake, and the wonderful Grandma Whitmer’s crumb cake. Upon hearing this, one of my fellow interns commented that it was a great idea and suggested we go to the store to buy some cake mix. Much to the group’s astonishment, I announced that I was going to bake them from scratch. That night, I got to treat the party goers to two real cakes—including my leader who had never had the pleasure of eating a cake made from scratch! He couldn’t believe how tasty they were.
Why is this phenomenon becoming the norm? What has been lost among the cake mixes and microwavable Mac’n’Cheese in lunch sized packets? There is no longer the wholesome food that our ancestors used to eat. The culture has made pizza, hamburgers, and caffeine the staples of the diet instead of fresh fruits, vegetables, and water—our country is paying for it in the above average obesity and susceptibility to disease. We’re missing out on the variety of food that would otherwise tantalize our taste buds when the dinner table changes with the seasons, and this is producing a generation of picky eaters who only eat what is familiar to them. The modern table should be graced with much more variety than that of earlier centuries, as technology has made it possible for us to get food from all across the world!
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In an age full of increasingly lifelike movies and video games, we have so much trying to grab our attention. However, we leave the theatre or turn off the television and end up unsatisfied. There’s something about such activities—they don’t achieve anything and fail to fulfill the man’s need to be productive. It would seem that the complex and emotionally satisfying movie would always be more enjoyable than the simple act of making applesauce, but I find it quite the opposite. While most movies I go to see are torn apart piece by piece on the way home, I have only had rave reviews when someone comes over to create applesauce at our home.
This last fall, we started out in north Georgia by picking enormous apples off of our friend’s apple tree grove. Once home, my family and friends each took a spot on the assembly line—some washing the weather-stained apples, others cutting the ends off, and my friend and I taking turns at our previously hand-powered machine that peeled, sliced, and cored the apples. My father, in his ingenuity, had seen that the handle could be removed and replaced by his power drill, which speed up the process and making apple peelings fly across the table! After the apples were peeled and sliced, they moved on to the next stage, where they were boiled in large, iron pots until they were ready to put through the masher, breaking down the large chunks into smaller bits. Finally, the applesauce reached its final stage, where we got to sample it and add our desired seasonings and sugar. In a group surrounding the large vat of applesauce, we shared camaraderie and the satisfaction of a job well done.
I cherish these memories I have in the kitchen. I have been granted the appreciation of real food—whether quickly thrown together from bits and pieces around the kitchen or methodically prepared. As my mother is legally blind, I have not only experienced the reward of eating what was prepared, but also the process of creating those goods—conjuring up fond memories of time in the kitchen with my mother, extemporaneously dumping, mixing, and learning. Thanks to her encouragement, I not only feel comfortable in the kitchen, but also find the times I spend there some of the most relaxing afternoons in my life. In the midst of the busyness of life, cooking forces me to slow down and enjoy the moment.
"Walking Child Into Sun." Photograph. (n.d.) From GIS-CAT School Environment Association. http://www.uoregon.edu/~giscat/tool_seat.html (accessed September 3, 2009)
Image: Stephanie Gallagher, photographer. "Peanut Butter Brownies." Photograph. From About.com. http://kidscooking.about.com/b/2009/01/15/peanut-butter-brownies.htm (accessed September 3, 2009)
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