Not too long ago, my husband, more lovingly known as the man I live with, asked if we could
make some chocolate chip cookies. Knowing that he has barely baked anything in his entire
life, I figured it would go terribly, so obviously I said yes. As we baked, I noticed that a
lot of the things that have become second nature to me as someone who is a casual baker
were confusing to him. Things like what a recipe means when it says to add a pinch of
salt, the difference between whisking and stirring, and how to properly crack an egg.
There’s a lot about the language of baking that I and many others take for granted, and
watching him made me want to learn how people figure out the basics of baking
So, I decided to run an informal experiment where I’d have him bake a classic recipe
in the hopes that I’d gain a better understanding of how people become literate in the language
of baking. In an effort to not influence how he approached the recipe, I didn’t give
him any advice or instructions; I just watched, silently judging.
I had him make a chocolate cake, mostly because I figured it would show him a handful of basic
baking skills while not being too overwhelming. Also, he likes chocolate cake, and I’m a
good wife.
So, this is how it went.
One major struggle came up while searching for ingredients. Pretty much every time he
looked for something that the recipe called for, he couldn’t find it. In one instance,
he stood in front of the refrigerator for a full minute looking for a tub of butter
that was literally right in front of him. I’m not sure if this is common for all non-bakers
or if it’s just my husband, but it definitely seemed like he was incapable of finding things
as soon as soon as he actually needed them.
“Hey, babe, where's the butter?”
Another issue he ran into was not knowing what to do next. After finishing a task, he’d
look at me expectantly and ask: “what do I do?”
You’re probably wondering why didn’t he just look at the recipe which gives explicit
step-by-step instructions, and I wonder that too. I’m not sure if he found them too confusing
or boring, but if it hadn’t been for me being a silent observer, I think he would
have kept asking until I just read it all off to him.
However, when he did start following the recipe, the real trouble started. The one he was using
was handwritten and had a fair amount of baking shorthand on it that he did not understand.
The most notable being the use of a big T for tablespoon and little t for teaspoon.
He made the assumption that who ever wrote the recipe was just being inconsistent so
he ended up using a tablespoon for everything with a t next it, which led to him adding
way too much of certain ingredients, and well...
“That’s bad. Not good”
Baking is not the most difficult thing in the world, but it does take a lot of patience.
And while he typically has plenty of patience for things that he’s familiar with, when
it comes to activities that he’s not skilled at, that patience doesn’t come as easily.
And I get that. I’ve spent enough time playing video games that are far outside of my comfort
zone that I can empathize with getting frustrated about not being skilled at something. What
I can say though is that even with things we find difficult, things that are out of
our comfort zone, there can still be joy found within them. Sometimes it comes from achieving
the small tasks, other times it comes from overcoming a challenge you never thought possible.
Finding joy in something doesn’t need to come from being an expert at it. In fact,
it can come from being kinda bad at it and trying anyway.
Luckily with baking, the most joyful part is eating the stuff you make, and at the end
of the day no matter how bad you mess up your own recipe, you can always buy something made
by someone who actually knows what they’re doing.
“Yeah. That’s way better.”