Three minutes can be an eternity. Forty-five breaths. One hundred and eighty seconds. Two hundred and ten heartbeats.
So measure in cups, grams, or ounces, whatever you are comfortable with, and don’t let anyone’s snobbery stop you from baking your heart happy.
A cake where the beauty is in the cake itself, exposed and unabashed, adorned by only the most carefully chosen elements that add to, rather than superseding, its flavour and appeal.
You enjoy your shortbread any way you like, ’cause life’s too short to make rules about cookies.
Perhaps knowing that someone you love has made them makes a cookie taste better than one you made yourself.
Why did I ever want to be a baker? I groan and curse the blaring 4:30 am alarm that cuts short my slumber.
Is there anything more delicious than a morning that starts gently and quietly sans alarm clock and culminates in a decadent brunch spread complete with tart, fizzy mimosas and the fluffiest pancakes known to man?