COURTESY OF ERIC ZENG
Zeng describes his cooking and baking as a journey that creates shared moments of happiness with family and friends.
COURTESY OF ERIC ZENG
Zeng describes his cooking and baking as a journey that creates shared moments of happiness with family and friends.
I don’t remember when exactly I wanted to learn how to make food, but I do remember why (other than the fact that I thought it was a useful skill and more economical). I liked eating tasty food, so trying to make it was the natural progression in my mind. My journey began with cooking.
Over time, cooking has developed into a very fluid activity for me. Rather than sticking to a strict list of ingredients or steps, I often throw in random combinations or ratios of ingredients, attempt new techniques and add excessive amounts of garlic and chili flakes (there’s no such thing as “too much”). Other than my younger sister, whose palate is largely similar to mine, I’m primarily the person who eats what I make. As long as I can stomach it, no harm no foul, right? Even if I do mess up, there’s often still an opportunity to salvage something.
Baking has had a very different place for me. Even though I cook fairly often, I probably only bake once every month or two, and it’s almost always something sweet. Unlike cooking, baking requires a much more rigid structure than what I often prefer when making food, and it ends up feeling more like I am following one of my lab protocols. The process needs to be more carefully laid out before I start, and measurements need to be precise and accurate. Smaller changes may be incorporable, but anything too major may prevent the desired outcome from being achieved, and for what I usually make, there’s no way to know for certain before it’s already too late. This aspect in particular tugs at the part of me that can be overly particular about every detail, even minuscule ones, if there’s no chance to remedy a mistake later. For instance, one time I tried using a different cookie for a cheesecake crust, which ended up giving it a slightly burnt taste. Not the end of the world, but still something that nagged me a little nonetheless.
Aside from the difference in technique, the product is also a factor. I have a tendency to make food in large quantities, even more so when I have to balance classes and other commitments, meaning that there’s almost always leftovers. While I have no issues eating dumplings every day for a week or two after folding a hundred over a weekend, I can’t say I would be equally as willing for something like a cake, despite my enjoyment of sweets. Even though the process is a big reason as to why I enjoy making food, the practicality of whether it will be finished in a reasonable time is still a major factor for me, which has resulted in me approaching the art differently.
Instead, baking has primarily become a way for me to bond with friends and family. I often cook alone, but that is almost never the case when it comes to baking, and it is during that time that I spend together with others where many simple but fond memories arise. From reassuring my mother that adding an entire cup of sugar (which I already halved from the original recipe) isn’t going to make the cheesecake way too sweet to the general chaos when working on different wet and dry components of muffins or banana bread with my friends, it’s these small moments that make the process all the more enjoyable. It has also become an opportunity to take a break from time to time and create something nice in a more relaxed and low-stakes setting.
Sharing what I’ve baked has also been a way for me to grow and express a part of myself with others. When I bake at home with my sister, it’s usually to make something for a dinner party or group meeting, which helps since the number of people will ensure that most of it will be finished, and it generally feels nice to make something that other people get to enjoy.
I am not an expert by any means, and rarely is the end product perfect, at least based on what I had envisioned in my mind. Sometimes a topping is too watery for my liking, a filling feels a bit too dense, or I think the center could have been cooked a bit longer. While these nitpicks linger in my head initially and are further amplified if other people are eating what I’ve helped make, they become largely irrelevant the longer I reflect. Because of the feeling, the sweetness that lasts comes from the little shared moments of joy — though the desserts usually don’t taste half bad either!
Eric Zeng is a junior majoring in Biomedical Engineering from Tallahassee, Fla. He is a Puzzles Editor for The News-Letter.