Letters to June, #2

Dear June,

Almost all of my Friday nights now are filled with baking. Well for me, mostly helping to bake. One of my many hidden talents. Assistant Baker at your service. 

Early Saturday mornings my cousin and I go to sell our baked goods at our local swap meet. We sell goodies like banana breads, cookies, and mochi – all made with mostly local produce. It really is good.

There’s something therapeutic about baking. Of measuring things out. Being precise. 

Two cups flour. 

One and a half cup sugar. 

A pinch of salt. 

Teaspoons of baking soda, salt, baking powder, vanilla and cinnamon. And then a little extra cinnamon because why not?

But I don’t understand, June, how people can just “eyeball” ingredients and measurements. Maybe that’s why I prefer baking instead of cooking. (Although I know baking is a form of cooking.) I can’t just eyeball things. I like having measurements and directions.  I need to know that I’m doing things correctly. That’s just how I am.

And then seeing it rise “like it’s supposed to” makes me so happy. And when the entire house, not just the kitchen, smells like the thing you’re baking – hmmmm that’s the best. Have they made a perfume of that yet?

Baking is fun. It’s a surprise. The art of experimenting. Of creating something edible (but sometimes not really). Baking in itself is an art.

You seem like a baker too. We should share recipes. I know I can learn a lot from you June.

I’ll write to you soon.

Love and all the good things,



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