Baking and cooking haven’t been quite the refuge I wanted them to be these days.   In fact, they have seemed like an impossible task of late.  Like something else heavy I needed to carry, but my hands were already full. 

Instead, I have been reading.  Reading was probably my first love, even before cooking.  Reading is good and transportive in a different way than cooking or baking, but it is still transportive.  While baking or cooking requires a great focus that can take you out of your current mind, I find that my mind is not overly capable of that right now.  It is focused on other things.  The reading is good and soothing, and there is something about getting lost in a book that is is a wonderful escape.

But regardless of my feelings, people need to be fed.  Sometimes I remark to my children that I just fed them yesterday, but they seem nonplussed by my appeal.  And so, I have dutifully climbed back on the horse.  I guess it wouldn’t take long for me to start thinking about something I wanted to make, and sure enough, last weekend I dreamed of a cookie.  A chocolate chip meets pecan sandie, with an oatmeal flair.  A modern version of a familiar tale.  It turned out spectacular (in my, apparently, not so humble opinion).  I suppose it is not surprising that I picked a cookie.  Cookies don’t require the patience or the dedication to craft that a fine sourdough will require.  You are throwing flashy add-ins into a sugar-sweetened batter.  It is going to be liked.  I wouldn’t say it was gilding the lily, but it is an easier sell to the palate. 

I probably would have gifted cookies this week and just excused my bread deviation–I make the rules in this wild space anyway–but as it turned out, they were all eaten rather quickly by my family and others.  I will have to write down exactly what I did–it is worth repeating, but that left me lacking in bread to gift.  I had wanted to try some persimmon bread since my sister made it a few weeks ago.  It was outstanding and has quite the pedigree.  I found it by way of David Liebowitz, but it was James Beard’s recipe.  Maybe you have heard of him.  In any event, it is a gorgeous quick bread and the flavor is fantastic.  Not to mention quick bread is my jam right now.  Like cookies, it is a minimal effort to great effect–about all I can handle right now. 

The plus side of this quick bread is that it is made with persimmons.  That may not seem like quite the plus side for you, but I have weird positive memories associated with this odd…is it a fruit?  It must be, but it is odd.  In any event, persimmons seem old-fashioned to me in a delightful way, and I grew up eating persimmon cookies at holiday get-togethers.  This week I was also the recipient of a lovingly thoughtful gift of persimmon cookies made by a friend that made me feel loved in the specific way of someone who knows your love language.  Finally, last year my dad was enchanted with them and went on a bender trying to find the perfect cookie–so much so that we gifted him a persimmon tree last year.  When the persimmons were finally ripe, it felt like a small nudge to get back in the kitchen.  I baked some persimmon bread and my house smelled amazing.  It may have been the whiskey in the bread that helped the aroma along, but nonetheless, my house smelled like a house that cooks and bakes again, and it was nice.  It also felt right when I placed the loaf into the hands of my recipient this week.