When I grew up, I did a lot of baking for my Mum, sister and I. Through my parents separation and a hefty dose of after school snaking and naps, the dinner table wasn't something frequented that often through the years. Eventually, my sister and I started to miss warm dinners and family together-ness. I got a job in a local restaurant cooking when I was 19, which taught me a lot about speed, practicality, yeast, and most importantly, how to hold a (large) knife correctly. I quit the place, but returned to the industry 2 years later, serving for nearly 5 years over the course. I considered challenging the journeyman paper's, but since there is no recognition for a vegetarian menu in the final exam thus far, I have never attempted. I retired into barista management, and now I relentlessly come up with new foods to capture the interest of my boyfriend as we embark on a health-kick and domestic living... Anything out of random stuff in the fridge, vegetable curry, anything using a hand mixer, and baking! Cakes, chocolate anything, muffins, cookies, oh my! Grandma Ruck's potato pancakes, chocolate chip banana muffins, Mum's enchilatas and Dad's Big Breakfast, Aunty Alice's tin of Christmas cookies, Granny Green's bran muffins The insane butternut squash & cinnamon apples & rapberry-jam-spicy-sweet- relish-beet salad I made the other night... I was probably 12 when I decided to make the most decadent cheesecake for Father's Day after drooling over the Baker's recipe book. I got everything ready, and just when I was placing the cake in the oven, it hit the rack and the batter tipped over--into the door of the hot oven!!!! I was so upset after all that hard work and love in the cake. I cleaned it up and managed to still bake a fraction of the cake, but to me, it was a failure!