Baking required

I've done quite a lot of baking this fall. I don't quite know why, except that with things so chaotic in the world, and not having kids and grandkids, I've felt the need to do something that connects me with women past, present and future. Mixing, kneading, rolling pie crusts -- when you do it, you can almost feel your hands aligned with those of millions of other women over time.

There seem to be two things I am "known for." My pies, thanks to a very simple, straightforward crust recipe given to me years ago that always comes out flaky. I don't do anything fancy, just fill the bottom crust with thinly cut up apples, a little orange or lemon juice, a little flour and about 3/4 cups of sugar mixed with a small amount of cinnamon, and several pats of butter. Then I put on the top crust and crimp the edges, poke with some holes, and it's ready to bake. These pies aren't camera-worthy -- they generally look ragtag and patched up, like something from the 1700s. But they taste delicious. Then there are my chocolate chip cookies, from an old Joy of Cooking recipe which I often adapt with some oatmeal or other cereal, or raisins or butterscotch bits rather than chocolate chips. In both cases, I no longer need to look at the recipes, and can do them by heart ("One cup and two tablespoons flour...")

People tell me I should work in a bakery. Well, I literally couldn't stand the heat. And I'm a little embarrassed to say that in a "Downton Abbey" test, I would be the Dowager Countess of Grantham, not Mrs. Patmore. But life circumstances and the time of year come together in the fall and winter, and more so this year. Much more so this year. Baking required.