The Land of Baking Heaven

Ooh, I've got such a juicy revelation to unleash upon your bewitched minds that I'm literally bursting out of my Forever 21 jeans to say it out loud. Well, if you know me inside out (hardly, in all honesty; even I have not yet discovered the unintelligible reasons for which I complain about almost everything that appears on car crash TV), my laidback - I wish! - quiet personality wouldn't cater to drawing unwanted attention to myself as being loud and incredibly brash doesn't play a role in my nature, so I'll remain as peaceful as a river in the middle of nowhere for a moment or two.

Hmm, time is up: patience has never bothered to grant me any pleasure because my quick-to-react temper grows more rapidly than my mid-length hair, taking over all of my senses without a hint of control making itself apparent. Here is the news straight from the horse-loving mouth: baking, particularly over this past year, has formed itself as my own chocolate-flavoured, sweeter-than-a-Jelly-Baby slice of pure heaven and, having just got my recent, fruit bonanza fix, I cannot get enough of it. Seriously, LikeATeen has swiftly taken off her mature suit of armour and gone as wild as one would during a make-believe sale at Chanel: mixing an extravagant amount of various ingredients in an overly tiny bowl brings more pleasure to my life than a so-called, wailing singer getting a kick up their you-know-what during a staged eviction from The X Factor on a holy Sunday (haven't you taken notice of the amount of times I've mentioned what I, alongside half of the frustratingly divided nation, believe is the worst reality programme on TV?).

OK, I would be failing to acknowledge my feminine side - which, at times, is more over-powering than one spray too many of my subtle, yet cough-provoking Chloé perfume - if a gasp of disgust didn't break out of the jail otherwise known as my Tic Tac-scented mouth when I have no other choice than to get my hands dirty (and occasionally, my clothes which deserved to have witnessed better, cake-free days) and ultimately get the job done, the result of which is immensely pleasing and weakens my insatiable desire for yet another round of rich chocolate mania for a few hours. Or two minutes once the large-as-my-hand chunk of brownie cake is gobbled up faster than an Olympic runner could sprint to the corner shop for the last bottle of energizing Lucosade.

So, it seemed inevitable that I would lend my in-need-of-moisturizing hand to baking one way or another because of the fact that I adored sneaking homemade lemon fairy cakes (or cupcakes, if you happen to reside in the yummiest country of the snack-munching world, America) out of the kitchen in the hope of not being caught red-handed, taking myself down a familiar journey to a place where zest would linger on my tastebuds and sweeten my soul - the sensation of which would unfortunately disappear into the heated air as soon as my brother got on my hot-headed nerves, making me temporarily forget about the sensuous flavour and light hint of fresh vanilla. Still, my mind has not - and hopefully never will - be erased of the memories regarding bite-sized treats baked in the comfort of a loving home, thanks to my mum whose inheritary skills have been appreciatively passed down next to the 'pretzel-munching, Lana Del Rey-singing' generation (my chose of words, not The Daily Mail's), in the form of my Greggs-detesting self.

Yeah, it may appear rather amusing that a girl like myself - one who would fight fang-shaped tooth and nail to grab my hands upon a dungaree skirt advertised in my clothing-obsessed dreams - can take to a hobby and valuable life skill such as baking, but I feel so peaceful and at ease whilst getting my hands stuck in a bowl of biscuit mixture that I couldn't care less due to my happiness given by the admirable art of creating tasty treats for the whole family to enjoy. And also keep the largest biscuit - usually a monster cookie-shaped gingersnap, of which the main ingredient has claimed the title of my beloved favourite spice - in my not-so-secret stash as a reward for my hard-working efforts. Who ever said that I was not entitled to a larger-than-standard biscuit or slice of my own recipe-followed creation? My mouth rightly so follows its own groove without any thanks given to Madonna.

If I must unveil my soul and be openly honest, I doubt that you would fully believe me if I admitted that I somehow stumbled across baking around the beginning of the year, revisiting it whilst baking a batch of hunger-reducing of gingersnaps - in my opinion, the most fail-safe recipe in the whole of the biscuit-consuming world - and gaining some ideas to embark on a fascinating adventure in the comfort of my crumb-strawn kitchen, via borrowing a few of my mum's expanding collection of cookbooks and discovering recipes which would go down as not only a hit for myself, but everybody else in my family, too.

Finding recipes which satisfy not only your chocolate-mad hunger pangs, but other people's hardly counts as a simple task, I believe, because I eagerly wished to avoid disappointing my brother, for example, by baking date muffins - a fantastic way of using the heavy bag of sweet dried fruit - whilst not realizing that the flavour wasn't quite up his street, which unfortunately occurred on one occasion.

Considering that, if not observed, my brother - whose appetite can sometimes rotate to the extraordinary, plucked eyebrow-raising level of the one my furry brother, Tom, used to have, who counted bowls of double cream, bites of bananas and a lick of strawberry yogurt amongst his favourite foods - is capable to stuffing himself with carefully concealed packets of Mentos and stacks of buttered crackers within the space of an hour during lunchtime, my oh-so-cruel heart barely felt sorry for him because I was finally able to eat something of my own without nail-biting fear making me worry that there would not be enough muffins for everyone, yet my dad narrowly avoided picking up one, somehow making a lacklustre claim regarding an 'alleged' dislike of vitamin-rich dates. Unsurprisingly, my eyes rolled à la a buxom-lipped beauty queen, yet nevertheless it was a useful lesson learned - always keep a steady eye on what you choose to bake, otherwise it calls for a needless waste of ingredients which could have been used more wisely. Got it?

Luckily, my family quite enjoy recipes featuring chocolate, the cocoa goodness which, in hindsight, is my catnip (albeit my brother has not yet witnessed my leaping onto the walls, re-creating a famous scene from a film featuring his favourite, spider-loving hero) - you name it, brownies, cakes, muffins and biscuits have included a form of chocolate or cocoa power, resulting to a fervour to devour the sweet-as-heaven goodies eagerly.

Typically, I try out new recipes all the time as I wish to remain adventurous and explore a seemingly endless journey in the land of waist-expanding food (who knows whether I've come across an invisible pot of gold due to my ever-slim physique; I hope so!), though I've remained on friendly terms with a few trustworthy, never-fail recipes - including a basic mixture for muffins and warm, spicy gingersnaps - but I can truthfully admit that a dark chocolate brownie formula has become my secret favourite, therefore introducing me to the irresistible, hormone-calming world where dark, plain cooking chocolate rules the roost and eventually won me over from the creamier, milkier side. Within a few months, I've literally given up the most luxurious bars of sugary milk chocolate in favour of the darker side - my inner pointy-headed devil has taken over my stable senses and brought them alive by a single square of chaste indulgence!

So, my trek along the waters guarding the precious ingredients which have become a familiar, much-seen face in my everyday life has taken me from so many places which my mind was unaware of existing; one of the greatest things about baking is spending time in a homely environment and, despite sometimes pleading for a light dusting of flour to not hit my Hello Kitty jumper, brings a certain sense of relaxation because I'm alone in my thoughts, focusing my energies on the task at hand (and fingernails, where dough has a tendency to get stuck). Like a sword-carrying warrior, I've taken my time to pace through the fields and learn more about my hobby, sucking up all of the information like a feared Dyson hoover and gradually increasingly in skill, surpassing previous opinions of oneself whilst establishing a stable bond and also growing in confidence; many may choose not to believe it, but baking and cooking a meal brings so much more than a treat or plate of food to a table because it forms a relationship with yourself, simply through the power to venture out of your usual style and create a structure sharing a resemblance with art, which, if you take a moment to consider it, is exactly that thing. Some dismiss it; others don't realize it. Cooking and baking are pieces of artistic creativity, whilst bringing happiness and fulfillment to your lives. And with a slice of Christmas fruit cake - the one which is currently baking in the oven, the flavour of which is gloriously rich and perfect for the upcoming festive season - are you in a position to disagree?

Hardly, I say.