If you're reading this it most likely means one of two things. Either you are a family member or friend that I have nagged, whined or bullied into following this exercise in narcissism or you share my sometimes unhealthy obsession with baking. Either way, welcome! 

My first memories of baking are being in the kitchen with Granny Mac and the brown crock she used to stir up countless batches of bread, cookies, cakes and whatever else I might be able to whine her into. (You might notice a theme with this nagging and whining thing. I was very accomplished at this as a child. A byproduct of  being the baby of the family.) 

Those of you who know me, know that I don't normally collect or hang on to things. But that brown crock is a different story. It holds a place of prominence in my kitchen and my heart. I still use it in almost all my baking ventures. That brown crock isn't just a bowl to hold dough and batter. It's learning what bread dough should "feel" like. It's Granny telling my sister, Marybeth, and me that we'd get worms from eating raw cookie dough. It's late night brownies and cookies, music and boys with high school girlfriends. It's my children's birthdays. It's family, friends and memories.

I bake for lots of reasons. I get bored, I bake. I get lonely, I bake. I get stressed, I bake. I get mad, I bake. Sometimes I even bake to feed people. Whatever the reason, I always feel better when I bake. 

I invite you to join me in my baking adventures, good and bad, and hopefully make some memories of your own along the way. 

Lori