Reflections on a (Baking) Season

Winter Cardinal  via strawberryluna

The children were nustled all snug in their beds/

While visions of sugarplums danced in their heads

To this day, I do not know what the hell sugarplums are. (Oh wait, I just googled them; those look delicious.) Nonetheless, that line in "The Night Before Christmas" has always brought warmth to me. I can't tell you how many nights I fall into an exhausted sleep while images of lattice pie crust and biscuits and crumble topping and cinnamon-sugar sprinkles float in and out of my mind. Last night's reflections got me thinking that this season is unique in that way. 

Never before have I been able to so freely express myself with food. I feel like I'm now able to translate my passion into something concrete - more concrete than poetry or music or feelings shared after a few cocktails - and it feels so liberating. I feel like I have something that is all my own. When I want to promote it, I promote it. When I feel burned out, I let myself reflect and create without judgment. Then I just come back with better stuff.

But, this year, the holiday season has just about chased me down. It feels like I've been stuck in a race with someone just a step faster than me, running on sand to try to keep up. Then I fall asleep and recharge, wake up, do yoga for 90 minutes, drink lots of coffee, work non-stop all day at the publishing company, drive home, and bake until I can't bake anymore. And I kind of love it. 

I enjoy sharing what the holidays have always meant to me: my mother's cooking, long stories shared over long meals, and spending time with my family, who I simultaneously see too often and not enough (what a contradiction). This year, the holidays also mean variations on the traditional baking my mother has always executed so well. Instead, I'm making  the southern food that comes from my family's heart and transforming it into something oh so San Francisco. Some examples: salt-honey pecan pie, persimmon custard tarts, salted dark chocolate almond toffee, ginger-nutmeg southern tea cakes, sweet potato cupcakes, and heavy cream on top of all of the above. 

I may not have the time to relish every second of this season, but I'm basking in the warmth through the food I'm making for others, through the samples I save for myself, and through the endless flow of new ideas that dance through my head as I fall asleep at night, exhausted, ready to start all over again in the morning.