Easy-Bake Hard Work

First off, let's look at that picture. Take your time. How long does it take for you to see the name "Bobby Flay," centered in that sunsplash ad? I bet you go right to it, because at this point, his name is probably more famous than the iconic product the book is nominally about, the Easy-Bake Oven. I don't mean to deride Mr. Flay as a chef, and certainly not as a business-man, but COME ON! All bakers (and most chefs) would say that a chef doens't know the first freaking thing about baking! His damn show is called "Boy Meets Grill," for god's sake! Ok, now that I've got that off my chest...

I'm a professional baker. I have done a good portion of my work on rock-and-roll tours, baking breads and desserts for rock stars and their staffs. I love my job. I don't know what to do with my hands when I haven't been elbow-deep in dough for more than a few days. For parties, I whip up pita or stromboli from scratch, I don't buy hot-dog buns at the store. I'm telling you. I'm a baking freak.

Now, the point is, I can trace back my baking roots to my grandparents' farm in rural (duh) Missouri. My grandmother had many subtle tricks for keeping me out of her hair while she got work done. The one I remember best involved a rickety, decades-old Easy-Bake that was missing most of its pieces and was almost useless. But damnit if it couldn't still churn out one or two tasteless cookies in a single five-hour session. To me, this was a miracle. Grandma would spend 15 minutes teaching me how to make a cookie-dough. Peanut Butter, Chocolate Chip, Butterscotch, whatever. Then she'd give me a small spoon and quietly impress upon me the need for eternal vigilance as I measured out the correct amount of dough, heated up the lightbulb, and waited for the cookie to "cook." There's a secret, inherent in the process, that I now understand. No vigilance is needed in this scenario. It's a 100-watt bulb. No matter how long you leave the ''cookie'' under it, it's not going to be fully-cooked. But grandma knew a better secret. A dumb little kid will do anything you want if he's guaranteed a cookie at the end, and if it seems a little dangerous, he'll even pretend the cookie tastes good. Thanks grandma. Still at it.