Baking as therapy

I woke up in an absolutely foul mood this morning. No real need for it, just particularly crabby. You know when you haven't even got out of bed yet but you can feel the little dark cloud on your shoulder? Admittedly I am pretty tired at the moment but even that didn't seem to explain it on a Saturday morning when a lovely weekend with visiting friends stretched in front of me. Half an hour later as I stood in the middle of a meadow throwing a toy for the dog while getting drenched in a full-on downpour, the crabbiness seemed at least partly justified. Nice of the world to get in step.

Now its Saturday evening and I am tired but very chilled. What has brought about this transformation in mood? Baking. Getting into the kitchen, grabbing some flour then rubbing some butter in for a short pastry. Grating cheese into a savoury biscuit dough. Best of all, watching the transformation of a golden combination of butter, sugar and eggs as I stirred melted chocolate through it.

So, what did I make? Well after whipping up a quick Victoria sponge last night, today required a little more concentration. First up, Delia's onion tart. We weren't sure whether our friends would have eaten, so preparing a few salads, investing in some good cheese, making hummous and baking this tart seemed to cover us either way, with the prospect of fantastic leftovers tomorrow. The tart has yet to be sliced but looks golden brown and smells divine. Its an old favourite and I'm quietly confident.

Next up, little savoury biscuits. Wine will be drunk tonight and rather than resorting to peanuts and Pringles I thought I'd make a bit of an effort. I haven't tried these before. It's a Good Housekeeping recipe for flour and butter, mustard, grated cheese and egg mixed to a smooth dough then rolled out and cut to about the size of an old penny. They have turned out deeply moreish and opinion is divided on whether the then crispy ones or the thicker, slightly puffed, ones are better, so another batch will certainly be needed.

Finally, good old Nigel's brownies, yet again. We are all involved with a sponsored walk tomorrow (marshalling rather than walking) and, since the others are helping as a favour to me, some kind of cake-based thanks seemed appropriate. The original plan was to repeat the Paradise slices, substituting raspberries for sultanas. Luckily I remembered in time that one of our party doesn't like coconut, so switched to baking the brownies. This will also mean pudding tonight is covered, as with the raspberries plus the cream left over from the tart the brownies will make a really decadent end to the evening.

So sweet and savoury baking, two old favourites plus a new star, have returned me to my natural balance and harmony reigns once again.

Is there anything baking can't achieve? I rather doubt it. There is an old cliche that if women ran the world there would be no war, but perhaps the truth is that if we all spent a bit more time making pastry by hand, mellowness would rule. It certainly seems to work round here. And those who don't like to bake could stroke cats to achieve the same effect. This is my vision. My, if you will, manifesto. The time has come. The time is now. Well, once I've opened the wine and had another of those savoury biscuits, anyway.