The glossy raspberry color instantly captivated my attention. From the dozens of KitchenAid stand mixers in Macy’s, the obnoxiously hot pink one was my favorite. Two weeks later, it stood wrapped in a bow along with Ikea spatulas and a somewhat fashionable apron. My birthday presents were unusual for a thirteen year old, yet for me, they ignited a spark of creativity that was developing within. 

My mixer’s first test was the difficult French macaron. The egg whites were flawlessly whipped and the almond flour and sugar was ready to fold in. Excited and with a deep breath, I began. To work, the consistency had to be perfect. However, my inexperience prevailed, and the macaron batter became a liquidy and unsalvageable mess. Tears flowing, I was convinced that my mixer had become a waste. Coming to the rescue, my mother pulled out an old Bosnian cake recipe, one for which the crust was made of the same runny—and what I previously thought was unsalvageable—batter I had just whipped up. 30 minutes and 350 degrees later, my failed macaron batter became half of something new and arguably more delicious. 

I quickly realized that I was able to express much of myself through baking. My affinity for simplistic design was visualized through the basic color schemes I designed my cupcakes around, and my eagerness towards uncommon flavors was evident from my atypical grocery lists. I turned to baking as not only a creative outlet, but an emotional one too. Baking became my escape. Rather than dwelling on stress and worries, I released them into a batch of cookies or the spirals and swirls of buttercream on cakes. When I started working at a bakery, I began to experiment with different recipes, using each trial and error as inspiration to move forward. Eventually, I was able to come up with unconventional desserts such as cereal themed cupcakes and seasonal brownies which the bakery began to sell. Baking has taught me that there is no such thing as failure in life. Rather, failure is only a part of something greater to come.

Selma Cemerlic