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Twice or thrice I've given up bread for Lent (going with the whole "man does not live on bread alone" thing). I allowed myself crackers, pita wraps and lavash rolls; I disallowed anything else leavened, in the Jewish Passover sense. On top of this I am vegetarian, and what got me the most was having to give up pizza and sandwiches. But I survived.
Today I visited my local megamarket and I feel like I melted as I approached the bakery section and got a whiff of some of the paper bagged-breads. Oh, carbohydratey goodness! Why did I ever forsake thee? The smell of baked goods is more tantalizing to me than any other food; it's a scent of home, of safety, of warmth and love. If I had to choose between cooking and baking I'd choose the latter, not because I'm better at baking but that it evokes in me a greater sense of heartiness and, well, magic. When cooking on a stove the food changes right before my eyes, but when it comes to baking I put in a pale and tentative-looking object into the oven and it emerges as a golden-brown and delicious product. There are few things as satisfying as the pow of hot, scented air that hits my face when I pry open the oven door for a peek at how the food's progressing.
Baking is slightly less satisfying during the summer, when so many different attempts are made at keeping the house cool. I've heard good things about grilled pizza and hope to try that out soon-- maybe this weekend. But I'm definitely going to continue baking throughout the year; maybe I'll get daring enough to make my own baked good recipe.
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