Baking and the beauty of temporary things
I spend a lot of my time with wine, but my kitchen is where I find a different kind of quiet. Lately, while I’m measuring flour or watching batter rise, I keep circling back to a thought. We put so much care into creating a cake the precise chemistry, the decoration, the anticipation. And then, in what feels like minutes, it’s gone. Shared, eaten, just a memory.
It makes me wonder if there’s a lesson in that. In a world that often feels obsessed with permanence and legacy, is there a particular wisdom in creating something so joyfully impermanent? Does the fact that a cake is meant to be consumed, not preserved, somehow add to its meaning? I’d love to hear if others have felt this way, whether with baking or any other fleeting craft. What do you think it teaches us?