Baking-0, Me-1

See this? This is the flaky, buttery, apple-y product of sheer willpower two weeks ago.


See this? This is a picture of nothing, because I haven't baked anything since then. That fact didn't change tonight.


After 12 hours of studying for my impending MCAT, I was utterly brain dead. I decided that I wanted to bake scones for catharsis. I went downstairs at 10pm and flipped to the well-worn page in my trusty baking book. Then I stared at the words Rich Berry Scones for several minutes in a daze.


My thoughts drifted to all the dishes that I would inevitably have to wash afterward. Nope, didn't want to do it. I went back upstairs to my room.


I remembered how I used to bake as late as 1am in my college days, clanking around the kitchen long after my roommate had gone to bed. One time I was so delirious, I accidentally added 2 tablespoons of sugar instead of 2 teaspoons to pizza dough (it makes little difference); another time I forgot to add oil to a chocolate cake (it makes all the difference); one time I dropped a bunch of flour on the floor and tried to use a wet paper towel to clean it up, only to create a floury paste....Dang, I was committed to my craft. I refused to show up empty-handed to small group if I had an once of strength left in me....Now, back to reality. Those blackberries in the fridge are nearing their last edible days. I'd better bake them. Now. Now. Now.


I went back downstairs to the kitchen. This time, I took out all of the ingredients out of the fridge just to make sure that I would commit to baking the darned scones. Butter. Flour. Blackberries. Sour cream....I was pretty sure my parents think that there is a burglar in the house at this hour. I was so tired. My eyes were drooping. All I wanted to do is climb into my nice, soft bed. I put everything back in the refrigerator and trudged back upstairs.


In the shower, I willed the water to rejuvenate me as I tried to convince myself to bake. Just grate the butter and mix the batter, I told myself. Just freeze them and bake them tomorrow. You'll be glad you did when you can enjoy them for breakfast. Remember college? You were there not long ago? What happened to you? I dragged my feet downstairs for the third time.


I stared at the recipe. I stared at my refrigerator. It was nearly 11pm and I had been debating with myself for a full hour. I'd never felt so defeated by the mere thought of baking before. I pulled out my little half-pint of blackberries, and ate them. The end.