The therapy of baking

Why do I bake? A valid question, considering the hours of planning and hard work that goes into a cake, only for it to be devoured in seconds. A counterproductive exercise, it may seem.

The truth is, I bake for me. I bake to relax. To celebrate. To mourn. I bake as an expression of creativity. I bake when I crave something in the middle of the night. I bake to say thank you and I love you. I bake when things go right. When things go wrong. I bake without reason and for special occasions. I generally tend to want to put others first, and I’m not the best at doing things for myself, but I bake because it is the one thing that makes me selfishly happy. Somewhere along my time in the kitchen, smeared with flour and chocolate, I realized that in the very personal act of baking lies a deep and meaningful sense of self-expression. Baking is my creative outlet, a precious break from the demands of life where I can get lost in the magic of eggs and flour and love.

For the past three years, I have been in a very academic environment, and while I love what I’m studying, academia leaves little room for creative license. So obviously I started baking more. However, I never connected my field of study – psychology – to my love of baking, until I came across research on the therapeutic value of baking. Donna Pincus, associate professor of psychological and brain sciences at Boston University says “Baking has the benefit of allowing people creative expression. There’s a lot of literature for connection between creative expression and overall wellbeing. Whether it’s painting or it’s making music or baking, there is a stress relief that people get from having some kind of an outlet and a way to express themselves.”

Besides being a creative act, baking is also an act of mindfulness as it truly requires your full attention. A second’s distraction and your chocolate has overheated and seized, or your pie crust has burnt. Julia Ohana, a culinary art therapist (best job ever, right?) explains “Baking is thinking step-by-step and following the specifics of the here and now, but it’s also thinking about recipes as a whole, the dish as a whole, what are going to do with it, who it’s going to, what time are you sharing it, so baking is a really good way of developing that balance of the moment and the bigger picture.”

Although baking is something I do predominantly for what I gain from it, I’m a carer at heart and love whipping up baked goods to give to loved ones. At the heart of baking for others is the very act of giving a piece of yourself. No matter how many cakes I’ve baked, it’s always a little bit scary when someone tries my goodies, because I’ve baked a part of me into it. Not liking my cakes is pretty much personal rejection!!

Also, as an Enneagram 1 (the strict perfectionist), I love how methodical and scientific baking is. If you follow a recipe correctly, you will get the same recipe. Every time. But – and this is the best bit! – between the precision and science-y stuff, MAGIC happens. Who would think that seemingly bland ingredients like eggs and sugar and flour can create something as wonderful as a CAKE when combined (correctly) and heated (correctly)! The wonder and excitement of putting a of tin batter or a sheet of dough in the oven and expectantly watching it work its magic never gets old.

Baking is also a bit of a metaphor for life: No matter how much planning and preparation you put into something (as a 1, I tend to over plan my overplanning), you cannot always control the outcome. And sometimes things don’t go as planned. Baking teaches you to deal with disappointment – flat cakes, burnt edges, split custards – and it teaches you about perseverance and trying again.

And then, I bake as an act of defiance. As we well know, the kitchen was viewed as a women’s place for centuries (ironic, considering the best chefs in the world today are men). In this day and age, professing to love the kitchen isn’t exactly seen as an act of feminism. Obviously, I don’t agree, because I am very much a feminist and very much a kitchen-lover. I feel the act of denigrating an activity purely because it was traditionally viewed as ‘female’ is anti-feminist in itself. So, while I love baking for the art that it is, my inner rebel revels at the fact that I’m engaging in an act that is not expected of me, a self-proclaimed feminist. I love how Nigella Lawson posits that baking is, in fact, a feminist act. In the introduction of her glorious recipe book, How to be a Domestic Goddess, she says "Baking is the less applauded of the cooking arts, whereas restaurants are a male province to be celebrated. There's something intrinsically misogynistic about decrying a tradition because it has always been female. I'm not being entirely facetious when I say it's a feminist tract."

Lagusta Yearwood, a food blogger, says it perfectly: “What's more hardcore and deserving of awe and respect, really, than baking? Every baker I know is much smarter than your average chef, who tosses ingredients into a sauté pan with no thought of maths or ratios. Bakers – even everyday home bakers known for their birthday cakes and Christmas puddings – have an understanding of chemistry and maths and a certain exactitude deep in their bones.”

In her article Cupcake Feminism: Is What We Bake a Matter of Gender? Ana Brownes also praises the knowledge and skill of bakers. She writes “This [baking] is about acknowledging and celebrating the knowledge that women have as a whole, and not downgrading it to the lowest cake pedestal. We as a culture should not forget the great amount of knowledge about food that primarily women in our culture have created and sustained for a long time.”

I bake because I love it. I bake to eat. To give. To share. I bake to defy. I bake to rebel. I bake because nobody else bakes whatever I’m craving. I bake to challenge myself. To destress. To see if I can do it. Ultimately, I bake for me.

Jeanine xxx