There are moments, such as today, when there’s a certain feeling in the air that I long for the day I can return to France to live. Since packing up and boarding a plane aren’t viable options today, I settled on baking a traditional French yoghurt cake and listening to the Amelie soundtrack instead.
Let it be noted that I am not a baker; nine times out of ten I somehow fumble through a recipe and chalk the outcome to “experience” rather than a gastronomic treat. I keep returning to baking because there’s something about the basic process that soothes me.
I do not own a blender, a process, fancy knives or dishware, so every recipe I own must be basic and simple. The ingredient lists always come from the local grocer rather than an exotic food mart and the names of the recipes themselves are always pronounceable. I’ll never be a fantastic baker but that doesn’t matter. There’s something so sweet to me to have the sun shining, the wind ruffling the curtains, music playing in the background and a little black cat at my feet that makes all the measuring, folding and cleanup worthwhile.