I’m a baker. Not, by any means, a professional one and perhaps not even a very talented one. But of all the things I can and like to do, baking is my favourite. And more specifically, I like to bake cookies.
A friend once told me, when I was suffering from the winter blahs to which Canadians are prone, to get myself into the kitchen and bake something. She knew me too well: the kitchen, baking something, is my happy place, as she called it.
When the urge to bake something strikes, I reach for my favourite cookie sheet. It is ancient. I’ve had it for so long that I don’t remember where I got it, when or why. Was it originally to bake cookies? I don’t remember, although I think not. It was the latest thing, way back when, in that it was among the first of the early generation of non-stick bakeware. It is a standard size, 10 x 15, coated with Teflon, and it was originally smooth and shiny on its back with the brown of the original Teflon on its surface. It no longer resembles its youthful self.
That cookie sheet has stood up to the worst I can throw at it. I’ve burned it, dropped it, put it through the dishwasher and in general, abused it in ways it was never designed to withstand. I’ve left it in the oven to have its contents cremated and its surface burned, and then used any number of inappropriate cleaning products in an attempt to remove the evidence.
It is no longer flat, but has a noticeable twist to it. Its surface has a myriad of scratches, and a lot of the coating is missing, probably because I’ve used scrubbing brushes on its Teflon face (an absolute no-no). But I love that cookie sheet. When I want to bake something instead of frying it, I reach for the cookie sheet. When I feel the need to bake my favourite cookie recipe, despite owning at least a dozen other baking sheets, I always use my favourite. It is my old faithful.
I now have to line the cookie sheet, which means I am not using its Teflon properties – not surprising, as it no longer has any. I have abused the surface so often that it no longer qualifies as “non-stick”. It has to be lined with parchment paper or tin foil before I can use it. But I stubbornly continue to prefer it, believing (rightly or wrongly) that it does a better job of baking cookies or chicken or whatever. And that its dark, mistreated surface is the reason.
Why don’t I go out and simply buy a new one? I don’t know. I seem to be the sort of person who, once attached to something, has trouble letting it go. And I cling to the stubborn belief that that the cookie sheet makes me a better cook.
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