When I was little, my favourite thing to do in the world was bake vanilla buns with my Grandma. I would watch intently as she carefully weighed all the ingredients to the ounce: the sugar, then the butter. Cream together. Two eggs, beaten. One teaspoon of vanilla extract. Dust in the flour (and try not to get it all over the table). Then, when her back was turned, lick the wooden spoon. The recipe would be for twelve buns, but I’d eat enough mixture that we only had enough for six. “How did that happen?” Grandma would ask. I’d shrug, unaware of the vanilla batter slathered all over my face.
Licking the bowl came with a special kind of adrenaline rush: the sharp awareness that I was doing something naughty, and the thrill that I could be caught at any moment. There was also the knowledge that my Grandma knew exactly what I was doing, which meant I had a security blanket and complete lack of risk. I’m pleased to confirm that I do still live life on the edge in this way. I’d promise myself that when I was older, I would make an entire bowl full of cake batter just for eating, and no grown-ups could tell me not to, because I would be a grown-up too.
It occurred to me the other day when I was baking that now I am (sort of) grown up, I never lick the spoon. The temptation briefly crosses my mind but ultimately, the mixture goes in the tin and the thought is banished by the washing up bowl. Little me with butter and sugar smeared across her face would be disgusted. What a wasted opportunity! When did I start worrying about spoiling my dinner?
The alarming part of growing up is that you don’t really notice when the symptoms start. It’s slow at first…then hits you like a bus.
First, I consider staying in bed until 8am a lie-in. Any longer and I get itchy and I’m in a bad mood for the rest of the day. It’s not worth it. I remember the ultimate indulgence for me used to be staying in bed all morning on a school inset day. I’d have breakfast in bed, which you couldn’t pay me to do now unless I was absolutely unable to move from my duvet. Criminal offence. If you want to see me cry, make me eat a slice of toast in bed and sit in the crumbs.
Second, the joy of going to a big supermarket. I know you know where I’m coming from here. I like to write a list of ingredients so I can cook a nice dinner (usually pasta), buy fresh vegetables (is there anything more therapeutic than chopping veg? 😍), maybe pick up a magazine or a new pair of pyjamas (Sainsbury’s have the best ones right now), a choccy bar (I’m growing up, not sad), and go back home. Bliss.
The most troubling symptom I am experiencing currently is googling the birds that I see loitering in the garden. I didn’t think this would happen until I was thirty at the very earliest, but recently we’ve been seeing goldfinches and now I have to search up every bird I see to check what it is. I really want to see a wren. A bird wish list, help me now. I’m really worried because when when my Dad puts on Gardener’s World, I sometimes stay and watch it with him.
None of these, however, are quite as upsetting as not licking the wooden spoon. All of a sudden, we stop ourselves from doing the things we reaaallly want to do because of stupid things like logic or practicality or - even worse - the fear of what other people might think. When we are little, logic doesn’t exist in our brains, and we’re so much happier for it. Logic is a preventative - we could do so much if we just went with our first thought and worried about the rest later. Imagine the bloke who first invented aeroplanes - I bet nobody got on board with that to begin with. Can you imagine - “hi guys, what if we all got into this metal tube and made it fly across the world at 30,000ft? We could even have a little roast dinner on the way!” Logic and practicality would say “uh, no thanks mate.” We could all benefit from suspending logic and practicality every now and again.
All this to say, the next time you make a cake, don’t put it in the oven. Eat the batter and don’t blame me when you feel nauseous afterwards. 🍰
This week’s musings are, as you can see, seasoned with some of the best Bake Off moments. If anyone’s a fan of the Bake Off (of course you are), may I refer you to Ruby Bhogal’s substack The Last Bite which is - imho - the best best one ever. Thank me later.