These days, I find it so calming to mash butter and sugar together into a creamy, sparkly glop. There’s something kind of nice about turning the kitchen into a cloud of flour, or trying to figure out the difference between soft peaks and stiff peaks.
And then there’s that delicious moment of satisfaction when I get to lick the spoon (or whisk or spatula) and wait as batter becomes cake inside the mysterious cave of the oven.

It wasn’t always this way, though. Teenage me wasn’t allowed within ten feet of the oven. I was notorious for setting off the fire alarm (actually, I still do that) and for making a spectacular disaster of perfectly innocent ingredients.
Besides equipping this absent-minded baker with a really loud kitchen timer, there are a few simple tips that helped make baking seem a lot less intimidating when I finally decided to give the whole butter/sugar/flour thing a real chance.
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