The baking challenge I set for myself has, so far, gone exceptionally well. I’ve had pumpkins leftover from my garden since roughly August (no, I don’t know how they managed to stay fresh that long), which have been turned into a pie and four batches of madeleines. The first batch of madeleines and the pie involved a great deal of cursing (thanks to a surprise lack of eggs and crust troubles, respectively), but the second batch was easy and tasted spectacular.
There are few skills that have such noticeable results as you improve at them. I’m sure I’m going to hit a plateau with this eventually, and suddenly everything I bake will taste bland, won’t rise, or fail to impress. But for right now, I’m enjoying the feeling that comes from making something I couldn’t make before, even if it’s simple.
Anyway, here’s a drabble.
(v.) from Greek mera, for many or plenty, + Greek ki, for sweetness or enthusiasm
To do something with care and passion, putting something of yourself into the work.
Nell folds whipped cream into batter, whispering blessings as she whips the ingredients together. She precisely weighs ingredients, grinding fresh herbs she grows herself, the flavors all the more striking for her care.
It’s not easy to coax sprouts from the ground, nor to nurture them to life, and certainly not to convince them through delicate measurements and proper heating to turn into something else. But it’s more than that, too; her cookies have enchantments baked in and her madeleines are charmed. Each spell is small—a good day, or a twist of luck—but potent, stirred in with care.