It's no secret that I am a baker and cook. I started long ago, in early childhood, and have loved it ever since. It became a refuge. My happy place, if you will. When I go there, there is no more thinking or worry. A sense of automation takes over.
I've had my children involved in the kitchen since they were young, though my son seemed more interested than my daughter. When he was 3 years old, he cracked an egg with one hand and I knew he'd be a great cook. He began pastry school this past fall. Several people have asked me "what are you going to do when he is better than you?" My response is always the same: "be happy. I hope he does."
Over the weekend he participated in The Junior Nationals Pastry Competition. I never would have dreamed of being in something like that at his age! Though under great pressure, he was composed and confident when he presented his plates to world-renown chefs for judgment. He was poised as they critiqued his showpiece and offered suggestions for future competitions.
He has already done greater things than me and he's just begun.
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