Afternoon Baking: A Story by ChemKnits
When I was in 11th grade, we spent some time writing one page descriptive essays. I came across this story again while I was checking through my school work that I had saved for one reason or another. I remember this story in particular because the teacher chose this one to use as a positive example (we wrote the stories under pseudonyms for this class.)
I hope you enjoy this story that came from my 17 year old self. I am now 27, and I think that this description of an afternoon spent baking while snow is falling outside still fits me today.
There was nothing for me to do on that cold winter day, and I was suffering from restless cabin fever. I opened the gold wrapper of a semi-sweet chocolate bar and placed it onto a plastic cutting board. With the large butcher knife, I chopped up the chocolate into tiny shreds. The process was slow, and hard on my fingers. I knew that the end effect would be worth it, the chocolate shreds, opposed to store bought chocolate chips, were my baking signature.
The flour poured quickly into a metal bowl to which I carefully added small amounts of baking soda and salt. then gently sifted these together. A half cup at a time, I added the dry blend to the contents of the glass bowl, as the mixer slowly folded them together. I added a little too much flour to the mixer, and a puff of flour smoke rose into the air. Once it settled everything close to me, including my shirt, was covered in a light dusting of white.
After mixing the shredded chocolate to the batter, where they would be more concentrated than a store bought chocolate chips, I ate a spoonful of the batter with delight. The whole purpose of baking was to be able to eat some of the raw batter. I placed tablespoons of the chocolate shred batter onto a baking sheet and placed it into the oven to cook. After about five minutes, a wonderful smell filled the whole house. As soon as the cookies were finished baking, I placed the perfectly golden cookies onto a cooling rack. After an hour, I carefully divided up the cookies into three even piles. The first I arranged onto a plate to serve to my family. The other two I stored in a freezer bags, then put them in the freezer, so my hard work would last more than 5 minutes. At last I brought the plate of cookies to my family, who quickly began to eat them. The house filled with a warmth as I sat with my family discussing the day.