Kieffer - The Vanilla Bean baking book: recipes for irresistible everyday favorites and reinvented classics

Cookies were my gateway to baking. My kitchen adventures began with them, standing on a chair right next to my mom. Every winter holiday we spent days near the oven, my sister and I rolling out sugar cookie dough, decorating each cut-out tree, angel, and star. Our face and hands, along with our entire 1970s yellow tile floor would be coated in flour and Christmas-colored sprinkles. Fights between my sister and me would break out over cookie cutters, my little brother would crawl up on our chairs, begging to help, and my dad would pop in occasionally to steal cookie dough when our heads were turned. Most of the cookies would be passed out to neighbors later that week, the rest secretly snatched by our greedy little fingers.

It wasnt long before I started baking cookies on my own. I had such a thrill pulling down the worn-out church cookbook from the shelf above the stove and thumbing through it until I found our familys favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe. Many afternoons I would come home from school, take butter, sugar, eggs, and flour out from the cupboards, and get to work. I made just about every cookie and bar recipe in that old book, along with every recipe on the back of chocolate chip packages, flour bags, and oatmeal containers. I experimented with cookies made out of cake mix and cookies made with shortening. I started caring about how many crinkles the top of each confection had and perfected crisp edges and gooey centers. I baked them for my siblings, I took them to neighbors, and I brought them to my grandma. But I also made them for myself. Straight from the oven, those round, warm circles took away the heartache junior high brought. Stirring the cookie batter with my moms old wooden spoon drove away the emotional discomfort, if only for a moment. I couldnt articulate it at the time, but I found contentment in both baking to keep and baking to give away.

I went to Winona State University after high school, determined to get an English degree and do something positive with it. Working part-time was a necessity, as my college career was on my own shoulders. With some barista experience under my belt, I applied at a small coffeehouse across from campus to help pay the bills. There, in that sleepy little river town nestled between the bluffs, cookie baking also became part of my college experience.

The cafe I worked for was the Blue Heron Coffeehouse, owned by Larry and Colleen Wolner. They had moved to Winona with their family to start their lifelong dream: bringing delicious, homemade food to the small-town community. The Blue Heron not only served coffee but made all their food and baked goods in-house. I started as their first and only employee and spent my weekday mornings and weekend evenings working the coffee bar. Business was slow at the beginning, but as it started to pick up, the demand for their baked goods did also. One day after a long shift, Larry asked me if I knew how to make cookies. I thought back to those afternoons at my parents house, creaming butter and sugar with nothing but a wooden spoon and my own two hands. I assured him I did. He handed me their house chocolate chip cookie recipe, gave me specific instructions, and I set to work. I was out of practice and my first few batches didnt win any contests, but the Wolners were desperate, and I kept at it. A short week later I had found my groove and was baking off dozens of cookies I was proud of. Each shift, part of my routine became making a batch for the afternoon rush. Larry added oatmeal raisin to the list and peanut butter soon after. Before I knew it, I was making banana bread, coffee cakes, scones, muffins, and cheesecake as well. For almost five years I worked with Larry and Colleen, and never grew tired of my moments in the kitchen with them. I still made coffee every day for customers, but the stretches I got to head back to the prep table and bake were my favorite. Over my time there, they taught me essential kitchen skills like how to knead bread, cut butter into flour, and how to frost a cake. They taught me to care about where my ingredients came from and to use quality products in my baked goods and cooking. They taught me that my state of mind mattered and entering work happy, sad, or frustrated could affect how my final product would turn out. When I graduated, I headed home with my English degree, but I now understand my real education had been happening in the kitchen of the Blue Heron.