"You really love sweets, don't you?" I asked my friend as she was wolfing down another piece of cake. "Aren't you full? That's like the 7th type of desert you chose, and you took at least 2 plates of each. Where does it all go?"
"Tsk, tsk. How many times have I told you? There's a separate stomach for each type of desert."
"I'm pretty sure if you have multiple stomachs you should go get that checked."
Instead of responding to that comment, she said "Well, it's my dream to taste every type of pastry there is in the world. Of course I like making them as much as I like eating them. Oh, that's kind of obvious seeing as we're culinary arts students, huh? By the way, why did you choose the culinary arts program? You always have this excited look when you're baking."
"I guess my love of baking came from a bakery owner I met when I was a little girl."
"...hmm...do tell."
When I was a little girl, I was really close to my grandmother before she passed away. I would always visit her when my parents were busy with work or when I was upset about something. She never questioned why I was crying at her front door. Instead she always welcomed me with a smile and we'd spend the day doing something together. By the end of the day, I'd have forgotten what I was upset about.
It was her birthday and I decided to bring a piece of cake to show my appreciation for everything she did for me. Of course my grandmother didn't expect anything in return, but that's what made it even more special. Besides, I knew she loved chocolate, so I bought her a small piece of chocolate cake with the money I saved up.
I was already halfway to my grandmother's house when a large dog ran right past me, bumping me slightly. The bump plus the fear of a large animal charging at me (I was very small at the time) caused my hand to slip and the cake box I was holding fell to the ground. I froze for a second and then quickly went to check if the cake was okay. My eyes started tearing at the sight of the smashed desert, and I began to cry. I didn't know what else to do. Would I have to tell my grandmother that I ruined her present?
"What's wrong miss? Are you hurt?"
I looked up to see a middle aged man come out of the store I was standing in front of. I tried my best to explain why I was crying, but I couldn't get many words out between my sobs. The man saw the cake box and formulated his own answer. He sighed and picked up the box. "Follow me, little miss. I'll help you out with a little magic."
I followed him into the shop, smelling something sweet and delicious in the air. As I wiped away my tears, my eyes widened at the site of a nicely decorated store selling deserts I've never seen before. I was in the new bakery that recently opened in town.
"Ah! It's the little girl that was crying outside. Boss, don't tell me you kidnapped her."
"If you have time to make jokes, get back to work. You need to fill those orders we just got."
"Yes, sir. I'm going, I'm going."
The "boss" noticed I was looking at him. "He's young, but he's a hard worker. I hired him for that reason, but he loves to joke around. By the way, I'm the owner of this bakery." I was still staring at him. "You don't actually believe I'll kidnap you, do you? No need to worry...well, even if I tell you that, it's not really reassuring, is it? Well, whatever. Follow me."
"This is a baker's paradise, his territory. The kitchen!" The owner led me to the back of the store. I was taking in my new surroundings when he brought a chair for me.
"Here, step onto this so you can reach the counter." As I stepped up, he put the cake box with the destroyed cake onto the table and went around the kitchen gathering supplies.
"Umm...what are you doing?" I asked.
"WE, little miss, are going to recreate that cake."
"What!? But it's already ruined. And I bought that cake from a different bakery. You don't have the recipe."
"Miss, you can't underestimate the skills of a baker." With that, he gave a slightly cocky grin. "So, we'll be baking a brand new cake."
"We? But I've never baked a cake before."
"Don't worry, I'll help you out. Besides, wouldn't you rather give that person a handmade cake with love instead of a store bought cake that you obtained with money? They say you can't buy love." He was right, but at that point I just wanted a cake I could give to my grandmother.
We started mixing things together right away, starting with a basic cake recipe. The owner kept mumbling "This isn't quite right..." or "Just add a bit more of this..." while he kept tasting the original cake we were trying to replicate. I did my best and followed his instructions, but baking for the first time turned out to be more difficult than I imagined. Finally after a few hours of trial and error, we were left with our final product. It was a full chocolate cake that I decorated, and while it wasn't the neatest, it was beautiful in my eyes. I was in awe of how far we've come. I tasted a trial cake, and it had the exact same flavor as the one I bought at the other bakery.
The owner's voice snapped me out of my amazement. "Hmm...I have to admit, it turned out pretty well. That other bakery has amazing cakes. I should know, I go there quite a lot."
"Um, mister? Isn't that bakery your rival? And can't you just create the same cakes and sell them here if you can recreate the flavor?"
"You sound older than you really are...Little miss, how did you feel when we were baking?"
"It was awesome! I didn't know baking was so much fun."
"Yup. At first you looked a little troubled, but soon you were smiling the whole time. That's how I feel when I bake. And the joy of giving someone a cake that you've made with all of your feelings will transfer to the person eating your cake. Take a look over there." He brought me out to the front of the bakery where customers were sitting down and eating the baked goods of the shop. Everyone looked so happy and peaceful, having conversations with the employees. I hadn't noticed when I first came in because I was busy crying, but the atmosphere in the shop was nice. It had a very relaxed and inviting feel.
"That's the reason I bake. It doesn't matter whether there's a rival bakery. The more we can spread this joy, the better. I won't try to steal their recipes because it won't mean anything if it's not something I came up with myself. Each cake is special, but they won't taste good if you don't put your heart into it." He looked at me. "...maybe it's too early for you to understand that."
True, I didn't understand fully what he told me, but I kept those words close to my heart. Later on, they would become my code to bake by.
The owner carried the cake we made and walked me to my grandmother's house so I wouldn't have any trouble. My grandmother loved the cake, and the smile she wore while eating it stayed with me forever, even after she was gone. Through my childhood, I always returned to that bakery for visits. The owner and staff always welcomed me warmly, as I stepped through that door. I'd learned some tricks in the kitchen and helped out with the customers. The owner and I went to the other bakery quite a few times to eat and talk with their staff, which turned out to be very friendly. I learned I had acquired a love for baking, a second family, and a warm home at the bakery.
Just before I left for culinary school I asked the owner a question. "If I manage to graduate from culinary school with high grades, can I work at this bakery in the future?" I don't know why, but I was feeling a little nervous as I asked that question.
The owner patted my head and said "That's IF you manage to get high grades. But I wouldn't worry too much. You had a pretty awesome teacher." That was definitely a cocky grin I saw.
