By: Caroline Kambrich
The oven’s hot, sheet pans are stacked, and my KitchenAid is in full swing, welcome to my kitchen! Baking has always been a lifelong passion of mine, and I’ll use any excuse, a holiday, an office event, or a neighborhood gathering, to share a homemade treat. Even if no one’s coming over for dinner, I’ll still whip up a batch of cookies before the handyman arrives, just so the house smells like something sweet. Whether it’s buttercream-frosted cakes, chewy cookies, or festive platters, I love spreading joy through baking.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I like to bake a spooky sweet now and then, but Christmas is where I really shine. Holiday cookie platters are my specialty. I love curating them with a balance of salty and sweet, chewy and crunchy, spiced and buttery. Last year’s lineup included Raspberry Thumbprints, Hot Cocoa Caramels, Holiday Chex Mix, Candied Bacon, Iced Gingersnaps, and Mini Berry Pies! Every season brings new flavors and combinations, and I never get tired of experimenting.
My love of baking started years ago, in our first tiny 1,500-square-foot apartment. Back then, I was just as eager to cook meals as I was to bake desserts, finding comfort after work in creating something delicious. These days, with a little one running around, meal planning feels more like a chore than a joy (if you know, you know) but weekend baking has become my retreat. I cherish my tiny taste-tester’s company, and it’s been a joy to see him want to help me in the kitchen, albeit my floor covered in flour and eggshells.
Cooking has been such a big part of my life. When I would visit my Grandmother’s house in Torrington and she was preparing breakfast, she would put her blue and white china plates in the oven so our pancakes would stay warm while we ate, and her bacon was so crispy it would shatter into salty little morsels in your mouth. She would let me help mix the pancake batter till it was thick, and I would watch her pour it into the hot buttery pan and watch the edges sizzle. That crispy edge of the pancake is always the best. The smell of sweet bubbly syrup from her stove intoxicated me as a child, and I can still feel the white lace tablecloth under my hands as I wait patiently for my plate of pancakes to arrive. Every piece of that house brings me such comfort, and I hold them close to me as I start new morning traditions with my family.
For me, baking is a slow, intentional joy. Unlike cooking, there’s no room for guesswork, precision matters. Even the weather can make or break a recipe (just ask my croissant dough from last weekend). That’s why I savor the ritual: Joe takes Colton to the zoo, I open the windows, put on a Harry Potter movie, and begin measuring ingredients. It’s a time that refills me, while also creating something to comfort and delight others. In every way, baking fills both of my cups. Here is to a season of good food and even better company. Cheers!
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