My Friend, the Baker

The article in the NYTimes recently about the sprinkle-loving cookie baker perfectly reminded me of my friend, Miss T. She is our playgroup's baker extraordinaire. And she doesn't just do cookies, but marvelous looking and tasting cupcakes (her passion), and creative, whimsical cakes, plus tasty pan and bar sweets (please, please try the brownie/cookie combo!). She's done the twins' birthday cakes twice, once with no dairy, wheat, or eggs! So, she's clever, inventive, and flexible too. I cried when I saw the wonderful allergen-free farmyard cake she made for their second birthday (because, unlike every 1-year old I know, they weren't allowed to have any cake for their first birthday, as there were no ingredients they could eat.) And she's even given me lessons--on cake decorating, when we made a groundhog cake for our first annual Groundhog's Day Party, and on cookie decorating (I forget the occasion--was it shamrocks? I remember a lot of green!). I just need a cupcake lesson.

But there isn't much time, you see. My favorite baker, my dear friend, Miss T, is moving to Georgia in about 6 weeks, right after Thanksgiving. Before the holiday baking season. I don't know what we're going to do without her, as we all get excited when she RSVPs "yes" to playgroup and MNO get-togethers. We might all be thinner, but life won't be nearly as sweet. And I haven't even touched on what an incredible person--generous, passionate, wickedly funny and quick, thoughtful, dedicated/loyal, caring, creative, smart, informed, flexible--she is . . . but she reads this and I don't want to make both of us cry.

It's not goodbye yet, and I doubt I'll write much of a goodbye post. But I will write a long description of our baking trip to town. We're going to all the places mentioned in several recent articles on baking and cupcakes and cookies in the NYTimes, including the place where the crazy cookie lady in the article gets all her sprinkles. It's a fitting, and sweet, goodbye, even if I don't get that cupcake lesson . . .