A heart song

by Bonnie Pockley

Let’s just say I’ve never been a baker. Actually, up until this point in my life, I hated cooking altogether and saw it as both an inconvenience and a mystery. My mother had always been a brilliant cook but it was only after having the twins that it became an area, for me, of interest. It was here that I discovered that there can be magic in the making of food; a chemistry out of the bounds of scientific explanation but certainly an important part of the process. A passion, a sacred act, a nurturing. I’ve discovered that a dish turns out as differently with moods as with whether or not it is meant to be shared. I’ve learnt that you eat with your eyes first, your taste buds second and that it can be instinctive, an act of creation, a heart song.

Today had been a rough day. There’s no need to go into it really except that we all needed a little something sumptuous to remind us of the proverbial sun. To this end, we set out to bake a cheesecake – a REAL cheesecake not a raw cheesecake –  the first I think I’ve ever made but according to Hame, the best he’d ever eaten.

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