Whenever I am feeling a bit glum, I think of baking. I learned this from my Grandma. Her mom, who lost her parents at a young age and grew up quite poor would make herself “feel” rich by baking a cake.

I think this is such a sweet sentiment to hold because baking is something you can do with a little money or a lot of money. You can make something for yourself for a little pick me up or can brighten someone else’s day. It is shareable, communal, and made with love.

Baking is a moment of connection for me. A connection through the generations. So much about our present world is different from what it has been in the past, except for food. Food bridges those time gaps.

It even bridges distance and time. As I baked last Monday evening, on the other end of the phone my sister-in-law had just finished baking her own cookies and was making dinner. It was like we were together in a shared experience.

Mixing, resting, rolling. The process of rolling the dough to a thin layer, dunking the shaped cutter in flour, and pressing a new image into the dough was timeless. I could have been four or fourteen or thirty and made these cookies with my mom. We always did every year, every Christmas time. I sent her pictures of the cookies and we reminisced about years past.

The dough, the cookie dough reminds me of meals at Eat’n Park and their free smiley cookies. It’s childhood, cozy in a bite. It makes me feel rich in memories and moments spent with people I love.

Baking is my cozy corner of retreat, cut-out cookies my warm fuzzy blanket. I think that is what makes The Great British Bake Off irresistible. What a wonderful place of solace in a gloomy world.

Thank you, dear reader, for spending time with me today. I wish you love and comfort wherever you are.