What is it with me and baking at the exact moment I “decide” to start a low-carb plan again? Seriously—it’s like a disease. I do this nearly every time I’ve resolved myself to get healthy—fit—and thin. I wake up, know I am going to eat eggs for breakfast, then immediately dive into the flour.
Today I made a delicious Greek yellow cake (I’ll be posting the recipe on the Food blog later). The question is, WHY did I make the cake? Why didn’t I hear the inner voice inside my head, screaming, “Put the mixer down. Put it down and walk away. Move away from the flour?” Why didn’t I instead choose to make the largest cake known to mankind? Seriously–this thing is big enough to feed a football team…with leftovers.
I think I’ve actually figured it out—stress. Not overwhelming, dig myself a hole and crawl in stress, but stress just the same. Stress because of a frustratingly busy morning. Stress because I took on yet another deadline-oriented “something” that I perhaps shouldn’t have. Stress because I’m still trying to figure my life out. That kind of stress.
I could leave the cake alone. I made it. That was the therapy, right? Mixing, stirring, cracking, pouring—these things are therapeutic for me. It could end there. But it won’t. For one, I’m strangely curious about how this yogurt cake is going to taste. Two, who the heck resists yellow cake? If it’s in the house, it’s like a drug begging to be devoured. I’ll likely have to send it to work with my husband to avoid gluttony.
So the cliché question comes to mind and begs to be answered: Can we really have our cake and eat it too? My answer—sure, if you’re prepared to use a coat hanger to zip your jeans tomorrow.