“Proust had his madeleines; I am devastated by the smell of yeast bread rising.” (-Bert Greene)

When I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do was to lick the cookie or cake batter off of the beaters when my mom baked.

She seemed to make cakes constantly, because while we were never allowed to eat snacks in-between meals, we always had a dessert with our dinner.

(I’m talking Every single night of our lives...)

A little old lady, “Mrs Endris,” lived next door to us when we were small, and she would bake the most buttery cookies with a cherry in the center of each one. They were delicious--they just melted in your mouth. I can still taste them to this day. She was the only person I ever knew as a child who had a rocking chair right in her kitchen, and she’d leave just the screen door open so you could smell those cookies wafting out the door.

We used to go to her door and say,

“Mrs. Endris, our mother said we are not allowed to ask for a cookie, but... if you offer, we can have one.”

When my son was small, I baked all the time. I used to make all our own breads, from crusty French baguettes that I slit with a razor and misted in curved pans in the oven, to braided loaves of herb/onion breads, to cheese rolls and dinner crescent yeast rolls. For Thanksgiving one year, I made five pies. To this day, I love the smells of freshly baked foods emanating from an open door or window. I could never work in a patisserie: I'd be enormous.

We made cookies: raspberry thumbprint cookies, chocolate shortbread logs, lemon bars, English toffees, oatmeal and chocolate chip and gingerbread cookies, and the list went on… I’d freeze all those goodies for neighbors and teachers and family and us.

Now, the baking we do is typically relegated to holiday time. It’s still fun, and I still enjoy it…

Hmmmm... I have to say, I still like to lick the beaters...do you?

(highly charming photo of Sue (left) and Mary Kate (right) chompin' down here--we meant business!)