Ah, the smell of baking in the afternoon.
I’m making bread. I’ve been debating since yesterday what to bake. I thought about making cookies, but today I settled on a couple of loaves of bread. It’s work, but I enjoy it. There’s something about the smell of fresh baking that makes the house smell… homey. I like that.
At this point, poppets, you are saying to yourself, and this is blog-worthy WHY, exactly? Well, I will tell you.
The smell of baking emanating from my home is a sure sign that the hormones, they are a-changin’.
Seriously. One of the bizarre “side effects” of these infertility treatments is the incredible amount of baked goods coming from my home. I’ve made bread, and rolls, and cookies, and quick loaves, and muffins, and scones. In the early days, I even made a cheesecake. As soon as the hormonal changes begin, I start thinking of what to bake. I look at different recipes. I experiment with breads. I feel calmer and more relaxed by the smell of baking.
Two factors make this baking compulsion more bizarre still. One, BDH is a diabetic, and so most baked goods are verboten. The processed flour and sugar makes his blood sugar spike, and while he loves fresh bread or homemade cookies, he can’t have them. So I often make things that he won’t like. A case in point would be the two dozen scones I made one afternoon: one batch lemon cranberry, and the other cinnamon raisin. BDH hates fruit. The second reason that baking is strange for us is that I am on Weight Watchers, and so I can’t actually eat what I bake, with the exception of the bread in very small increments. Which means, we NEVER run out of bread. We have it in the fridge and the freezer. I have rolls in my vegetable crisper.
Sometimes, I make things specifically for BDH to take in and distribute at work. That works well with sweets. Cookies are always nice for coffee breaks. But it’s more than a little strange to, say, raffle off a loaf of sourdough among your colleagues.
And so, two days into the pills, I am baking. It was inevitable, really. Whether my hormones are adjusted up, down, or sideways, you can be sure there will be lovin’ from the oven soon to follow.
Come. Join me for something tasty and warm and homemade. But bring your own cuppa tea or coffee to drink. What, you think I can afford to just GIVE that stuff away?