Harpie

I wish I could say a fondly remember those times in the kitchen with Mom, when she would impart handed-down culinary techniques and, like a steel trap, I would take it all in and make it part of my being. Instead, I remember Mom's graying hair as her eldest daughter flat out refused to pay any attention to even the simplest recipe. I learned to boil water before adding noodles so they didn't disintegrate, but I still need to call her for proper instruction every time I want to hard boil an egg.

Admissions aside, I did discover in my late teens that I'm simply mad for making desserts. Every winter, friends and family can sense when the fever is taking over. They await anxiously to see what goodies I'll produce, baking staples and newfound adventures alike. I'll sprinkle little treat excursions throughout the rest of the seasons as well, just to keep myself sane.

I recently began collecting many of these forays in my own site, and look forward to not only sharing, but also learning from others who find they simply can't imagine life without a freezer filled with leftover cookies, a drawer filled with singed oven mitts, and a house filled with the scents of cinnamon, ginger and/or vanilla.

Personal disclaimer: I spend most of my weekdays as an underemployed copy editor, so I pre-apologize if I spend a lot of my time here making piddly spelling, grammar or style changes. It's ingrained.