I have never made a secret of the fact that I sometimes like to cook. And I often don’t use an actual recipe. I just throw things together I think will work. Most times they do. There have been some failed experiments, but most things at least end up edible.
But baking is different. I tend to look at baking as more of a chemistry experiment. If you add certain ingredients in certain given, time tested amounts, you get the result you are looking for. So I tend to be a bit more precise when it comes to baking.
My mother, who doesn’t actually bake much anymore, never really did things that way. She learned from her mother, who probably learned from her mother in a line that may have stretched back to about when the comet took out the dinosaurs. She uses measurements like “a handful”. Or “a pinch”. Even “a little”. This tends to make me confused. But luckily, I have her around as a coach.
I finally got a start on some of my Christmas baking yesterday. Over the past few years I have been making a few different cookies to package up and give to family members as gifts. They seem to enjoy them. In fact, I think they have come to expect them. So I decided I had best get a move on.
This year, I thought maybe I would whip up a few cranberry tarts. They’re fairly easy because I use frozen tart shells. I could make pastry, but times getting short, and ain’t no one got time for doing things totally from scratch. But I did have to make the filling. So first I asked my mother for the recipe.
She dug around and found a 1963 Women’s Institute cook book, flipped through the pages and found a recipe for cranberry pie. This isn’t tarts. It’s pie. I was told to just make what it said. It was the same thing, just smaller. But over on the edge of the page was a note. Add raisins.
The recipe, as most recipe’s are, was fairly detailed. It wasn’t tough. It was very similar to cranberry sauce. Maybe a touch more sugar and a bit less water, to make it thicker. But it was close. And no option for orange or anything like that. Instead, there was just that note. Add raisins.
So I pulled out a small bag of raisins and asked, “How many of there do you put in?” First, we started with the usual non-specific measurement. A couple handfuls. A looked at her. “You have much smaller hands than I do.” I was struggling to get an idea that would translate into an actual measure. As much for future reference as anything. Instead I got, “Throw ’em in there.” By which she meant whatever was in the bag. She figured it might be a bit much, but it was in the general neighbourhood of a couple hands full. I tried to add in only part of the bag, but was sharply told to just put them in. So I did.
Now I will admit, I try to keep close to proper measurements. Baking really is a chemical formula in many ways. I might not be baking show contestant, break out the digital scale and measure everything to the hundredth of a gram about it. But I like to at least try to follow the formula. But I know better than to argue in this type of situation, so in they went.
I have to admit, they turned out pretty good. So did the whipped shortbread I managed to get done. But I did make notes. Now I have a recipe for cranberry tarts. Only mine has things like cups of ingredients. Not “some” or a “handful” or anywhere near “just throw ’em in”. But I guess that works too.
Sometimes, experience trumps science. At least in baking.
