I know there’s more to the holidays than baking, but baking is simply one of those things my family does this time of year. It’s a ritual, a practice, an experience playing out over time that builds layers of memory and meaning. Even if I weren’t baking for holiday gatherings or for gifts, I’d still... Continue Reading →
On Baking Bread and Not Knowing What I’m Doing
Sometimes I don’t really know what I’m doing. It’s not always a bad thing. For instance, I’ve had a hankering to bake rye bread lately – real rye bread that smells like yeast and rises on the kitchen counter. I knew nothing about any of it, but I decided a few months ago that a... Continue Reading →
Our Imperfect Saints
Autumn makes me think of my grandmother’s pumpkin-shaped sugar cookies. She’d cover them in orange buttercream frosting and then decorate the tops with Jack-o’-lantern faces using a rich cocoa icing. I loved those cookies. My grandmother sold them for 35 cents apiece at the local pumpkin festival, and they sold out every year. My grandmother... Continue Reading →