What Baking Can-Not Do

‘Butter, flour, eggs’ I thought to myself, chucking the lot of them in the bowl. 

“Are you finished yet, darling?” My mother called from the lounge. 

“Ummm…no…not exactly” I replied, distracted by the swimming egg shells in the dough batter and wondering whether it was meant to be like that. 

“I hope you aren’t making a mess?” my mum asked sternly from right outside the door. I’d forbidden my parents from entering the kitchen, because of the catastrophe that occurred last time I was baking under their watch. To make a long story short, it ended up with the dough batter covering every inch of the slab. “You’re going to have to clean it all up and the guests are arriving in just about an hour and a half” 

My eyes brushed over the state of cleanliness in the kitchen: half the cupboards were open and the floor behind me was powdered with flour and eggshells. On top of each stove was a tray of under-baked, over-baked and absolutely raw delicacies that I had refrained from throwing away in case they turned out to be better than the next batch I produced. On the kitchen island in front of me way the worst of the horror show; however, as every inch of it was smothered in either flour, eggshells, melted butter or chocolate chips. On top of the mess, was another layer of empty packets and cans that I had finished using but had not got round to throwing away. I began to think that maybe I should begin tidying up ,but then I remembered the task at hand and all other ideas flew out of my head. 

“Not too bad” I replied, biting my lip as I began to sift another 100g of flour. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” My mum insisted, now standing right outside the kitchen door and I could just imagine her reaching out to grab the door handle. 

“NO, mum! I’m fine!” I cried, abandoning the arduous task of sifting the flour altogether and dumping the whole amount in. “Anyway, the idea was to do do this by myself. That was part of the resolution I had made.”

“Alright, If you’re sure. Just be done in the next hour”

I made to roll my eyes, but then realised what she had said.

“Hour!” I squealed frantically “You said I have an hour and a half”

“You have just another hour to bake, but for that half an hour, you need to get ready.” My mum explained. 

I groaned. I was not going to be done in an hour. 

Starting desolately at the gooey mixture in front of me, I shrugged -at least I could give it my best shot. 

So for the next forty-five minutes, I spent preparing three new batches. The batter even tasted nice, but when it came to taking them out of the oven-

“Yuck!” I exclaimed, wrinkling my nose at the burnt smell. I albeit threw the tray onto the counter and rolled up my dough covered sleeves to check the time. Only twenty minutes left. Definitely not enough time to bake a whole new set.

My eyes glanced across at the other batches, wishing that one would suddenly metamorphose into an edible pile of cookies. None of them did. Why did nothing I do ever work? Jax, my thirteen year old brother, could make better cookies than me without trying and he was tiny. 

I was useless at resolutions.

At that moment, I heard a sound at the door of the kitchen. 

“Still haven’t got it?” The voice asked.

I groaned. Not him.

“Jax, I thought I told everyone that I wanted peace and quiet while I was baking or did you think you qualified as peaceful” I snapped, shoving the oven door shut with a loud bang. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

He ignored me, proceeding to lock the kitchen door behind him and shuffling up onto a stool at the kitchen island after dusting off the sprinkle of flour that had spilled onto them. 

“I thought mum told you to be tidy” Jax chuckled, scanning his eyes around at the mess I’d made.

“Well, not everyone can be as neat as you” I glared, half heartedly throwing a few eggshells into the rubbish bin.

“Here, let me help” Jax offered and, reluctantly, I accepted.

I have to admit that four hands are better than two. We had the kitchen cleaned in no time and I felt like I’d only moved a few things. I probably had, as well. Cleaning: another thing that Jax was better at than me.

I was just figuring out how to get the egg cartons to fit in the recycling bin, when Tax came up behind me and said, almost awkwardly “I saw what your resolution was”.

I turned around, my hair slapping me in the face as I did so. “You did?” I asked, trying to sound casual. It didn’t work.

“Your resolution wasn’t to bake” he said slowly, not really answering me.

I didn’t reply.

“That’s why you only tried baking today, because that wasn’t the actual year’s resolution, was it?” He was looking at me for an answer, but I knew that he already knew what it was. “In fact, you’ve been trying ever since the start of this year. Just no one noticed”

I nodded, tears leaking from my eyes, as I looked down at my knees. I didn’t know what to say. It was the truth: no one notices when I try. It’s always ‘Jax did this’ and ‘Jax won that’ or ‘Oh my God, my little Jax learnt how to bae all by himself’.

I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I looked up slowly, sniffing quietly.

Jax was looking sheepish, his eyes giving away what his face did not.

I brushed the hair from my eyes and fixed him with a stare. “What did you do?”

“You know that batch of cookies I made last week…?” he asked, edging away from me slowly and towards the cabinets behind him.

“Yeah, the ones that mum said tasted like they were made by professionals” I quipped, gulping dan my tears. “What about them?”

“Well, there might’ve been some truth in what she said” he admitted, suddenly very interested in the patterns on the kitchen tiling.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

I gasped, realisation hitting me like a stack of bricks, and a ghost of a smile erupted on my lips. “You’re kidding!” I exclaimed.

He shook his head, also smiling, albeit guiltily. “I’m not. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bake cookies on my own, so when mum told me that I should have a go that Thursday morning, I nipped off to Sainsbury’s on the way back home and…” He opened the cabinet behind him and Tok out three packets of triple chocolate cookies.

A bubble of laughter escaped me.

I couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t actually made those cookies! 

For once in my life, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. 

I wasn’t the only family failure. 

We both were.

“I think the guests are going to love my chocolate chip cookies” I declared.

Jax could only agree silently.