I love to bake. Recently was having a conversation with someone who was looking to commiserate regarding some sort of complex sounding harness system that you need for babies at this age if you want to run with said baby in tow…it all got murky and just before my eyes glazed completely over I haulted the conversation by rubbing my tummy and saying “obviously I don’t have those types of problems. I try not to run; I bake.” “Bake” is an action word. Therefore it counts as exercise. Ok, that might be a stretch, but I’m still going with it.
My mom loves to bake too. She still uses her very first cookbook that she acquired back when they still had those cooking classes in public schools. If you look closely at the cover above, you might notice that she doodled her name and my Dad’s name together as she was smitten with him in high school. Here’s a copy of her favorite recipe:
I love that the instructions bluntly direct you to rub the pans with fat, (eF-Ay-Tee). Not “nonstick spray” as it is light heartedly referred to in today’s recipes as if to soften the blow of the reality behind “nonstick” substances. “Fat” or “nonstick spray” whichever camp you may fall under, these rolls are amazing. Waking up to the smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls will result in the best damn day you’ve had in quite some time. Try it.
There’s a story behind my favorite recipe, Hershey’s chocolate brownies. I’ll share that with you next time. But for now…Olive’s sleeping tight…so it’s my time to scramble and get a few things done before her tummy starts growling. It’s unreal how much growing that girl is doing on milk alone!
