When you live abroad for a while you really start to notice what you loved about your former, unappreciated life. I recently noticed that there are a couple of English dishes that I really miss in Berlin, one of them being pie. My dad is a big pastry fan, and I remember him always being passionate about making it from scratch. My nana and I used to religiously bake mince pies at Christmas too, which I never really liked, but they gave me a solid early training.
I’ve been staying home a lot these days just like everyone else. I’ve decided to deepen my practice of my favourite mystical arts: baking, watercolours, and making strange tunes. I’m more of a baker than a cook, as I love following very precise directions and measurements, and am less talented at improvising. I used to really enjoy bringing baked goods to birthday parties and picnics, or spending long baking afternoons with friends (I’m lookin at you Lizzy Sell and Emma Gatrill). It’s so soothing and absorbing to dedicate yourself to a long and semi-complicated task.
I now have to eat all my creations myself, or make secret deliveries with sanitized baskets and parcels wrapped in tin foil. When I was younger I used to watch in awe as Snow White baked a pie for Grumpy. She probably really cheered him up by putting his name on that pie. I didn’t have the help of a team of enthusiastic sparrows and bluebirds like her, but I hope you enjoy embracing this little project with me!