Such is the prevalence of the bake sale as a means to raise money for all manner of causes, there comes a time when you will almost certainly be asked to make something for one. That’s fine if you enjoy baking and have all the right kit. But if you don’t, it’s a major hassle. A swift yet cheery “Oh, but of course, I can help with the buying and eating!” is useful for dodging a couple of requests. But there usually comes a time when you feel you better just make something.
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For some reason, when I think about what I want for my child in life, it always involves baking cookies. It’s possible that I’ve internalised the association of motherhood with cookie making, or else I just this have Pavlovian reaction to cookies whereby if cookies are present, something is going right in the world of your home. My sister was a day student at a boarding school (long story, which I’ll save for my memoir) where the girls were given fresh cookies every day at 10am. By contrast, I went to a Catholic school, so the closest we got to cookies was communion wafers and the cigarettes we smoked behind the music caravan. Not good. Continue reading
Democratic Kitchen 