My Experience In Baking

Ever since I was little, possibly 3 or 4 years old, I have had a fascination with cooking and baking. My wonderful mother, whom among the scores of things she does on a daily basis likes to cook everything she can from scratch, taught me to appreciate many different types of foods, and was always willing and eager that her children should grow up learning to cook. For me, as a visually impaired child who wasn’t yet tall enough to use the countertop, this meant sitting on the counter while she worked, “helping” as often as she would let me. I’m sure all I really did was make a bigger mess for her to clean up, but I loved every minute of it.

As I grew older, I was gradually allowed more freedom to try some of my own experiments. The first I can remember took place when I was about 6 or 7. I have always been a chocolate lover, and apparently came to the conclusion that I was going to concoct one of the most fabulous chocolate bars that ever existed. I wanted it to be chocolate and mint combined; however, my six-year-old mind assumed that, as flour made things drier, that must be what made chocolate bars the way they were. Thinking back, I believe the way I explained it to my mom, who decided to simply humor me so I could find out what would happen when I tried my idea, was something like this: “You said flour makes things dry, so it can make them hard too, right?” (she agreed that it could in some cases, usually after baking.) “So then, if that’s how it works, I’ll just use lots of flour and my chocolate bars will be perfect!” 

As I didn’t know how to fully explain what I meant, my mother thought I was looking to make something more along the lines of a brownie or cookie bar. Though I remember little of what I wrote in my recipe, I do distinctly remember writing that 6 cups of flour were needed.

When the fateful day finally came, I was sent to my aunt’s house so she could help me make them while my family prepared to host a Christmas party. I was told that if my bars turned out well, they could be served that night. Thanks to my aunt, they did—mostly because she convinced me not to use all 6 cups of flour. They turned out tasting like minty brownies, and though it wasn’t what I was hoping for, I was satisfied.

When I was nine and had sufficiently proven that I did in fact understand how flour worked, I started my first sourdough starter, which I still have and use today. It is now almost 10 years old. Working with sourdough starter, as well as learning to bake without it, was the thing that made me realize just how much I love baking. I certainly enjoy cooking as well and could spend all day in the kitchen happily doing either one; however, while both do come naturally to me to a certain extent after growing up learning them, I tend to spend more time focusing on perfecting my method for whatever project I am working on.

One such project took me most of the time I’ve had my starter: coming up with a bread recipe that can withstand Florida’s low elevation and high humidity levels. It was not until about a year ago that my mother and I finally combined a few different techniques to form a recipe that worked well. I have created several other recipes as well and am so very excited to share them with you all. I hope to eventually start a local online bakery, and, as a university student, am considering a minor in the culinary art. As a visually impaired woman, I have certainly encountered challenges with baking—how do you tell what shade of brown your bread is when you take it out of the oven? How do you know that your meat isn’t still pink in the middle? But I am very happy to say that in every case I have encountered so far, there has been another technique just as effective as the alternative. With this in mind, I am thrilled to have the opportunity to share my experiences with anyone interested, and am excited to continue on this culinary adventure.