I've discovered a new form of therapy.
I help out a local caterer here in Reno baking and cooking and what not. During Christmas she asked me to help her make cookies. At first it was frustrating. Baking 300 cookies I couldn't eat (stupid eggs). But after a while it became so therapeutic. Rolling them out was peaceful. Cutting each little shape made me smile. Watching them bake to perfection knowing I had done that was a little powerful. Then, decorating each and every cookie by hand I felt immense relaxation. Piping ANYTHING is a tedious job. When you have carpal tunnel it hurts like a motherfucker. But, I love it. So when she called me last week and asked me to bake I didn't care that I was dead dog tired, that my hand hurt, that I was over scheduled I jumped at the chance. As expected after three days in the kitchen I was elated. I had accomplished something so big and pretty in the time frame I was supposed to. I'm headed back in tomorrow to pull a double shift. That means I'm going to attempt to roll, cut, bake and pipe 3 dozen cookies all in one night. I can do this right? I love being in the kitchen because I'm either there alone which gives me a lot of time to turn Willies Roadhouse on the satellite radio and think, or I'm there with her and while we do talk a lot of time it's just two women working to accomplish something.
I love this stupid little side job. Somehow, even though I've never thought of myself as a baker I've grown to love it. I'm pretty damn good at it too. Just ask the chocolate cupcakes with fresh tiramisu whipped cream, or the cranberry white chocolate bars, or the lemon shortbread bars, or the cream cake with fresh berries and Zabaione that I lovingly cooked. I love watching people eat the stuff I've made. My favorite was the first time I made the flowerless chocolate bites with fresh whipped cream on top for a giant party, this lady sought me out to find out who made this amazing cake. It was ME ME ME. She praised me over and over and over then told me she loved it so much she was sneaking some out for her husband. I walked on clouds for about five days after that.
Here is what I was working on the other night. I'm not in love with the ducks but it is what it is.
In case you were wondering, that is 95 cookies up there. My hand hated me the next day. I've never been more proud of myself. This is only my second time piping cookies. Not bad if I do say so myself. Okay, it's late I'm off to bed, I have a long day tomorrow.