Post by Adriana Velez
You know what? I tried. I tried and tried and tried. For years I was a holiday baking frenzy, churning out a dizzying array of holiday cookies from all around the world, packing them into sweet little gift boxes for teachers and family. After a life-changing, Christmastime encounter in Venice I taught myself how to make panettone (Italian sweet bread), sort of. I painstakingly rolled and decorated the most precious Buche de Noel (yule log cakes). And then? Last year I hit a wall and realized to my horror/relief: I hate holiday baking. That's right. I hate holiday baking. All the pressure to produce joy and perfection in a cookie. The collapsing gingerbread houses, the re-toasting of pecans because I burned the first batch, rubbing skins off of hazelnuts. And the butter. SO. MUCH. BUTTER. I am so over it all.![]()
You know what? I tried. I tried and tried and tried. For years I was a holiday baking frenzy, churning out a dizzying array of holiday cookies from all around the world, packing them into sweet little gift boxes for teachers and family. After a life-changing, Christmastime encounter in Venice I taught myself how to make panettone (Italian sweet bread), sort of. I painstakingly rolled and decorated the most precious Buche de Noel (yule log cakes). And then? Last year I hit a wall and realized to my horror/relief: I hate holiday baking. That's right. I hate holiday baking. All the pressure to produce joy and perfection in a cookie. The collapsing gingerbread houses, the re-toasting of pecans because I burned the first batch, rubbing skins off of hazelnuts. And the butter. SO. MUCH. BUTTER. I am so over it all.