When I was in elementary school, I joined a baking club. I never really enjoyed baking, or understood the craft of it. My entire life I predominantly survived off of frozen waffles and whatever I found in my pantry. On the first day, we made a mug cookie. It was nothing special; it was spongey, kissed with vanilla, and had a ton of sprinkles. I watched the dough rise and bronze, while the confetti specks would explode into colorful clouds. 

“Be careful, it’s hot” My instructor attentively removed the mug and handed me my creation. I didn’t hesitate to embrace the cup in my grasp, it smelled heavenly. I remember coming home that day feeling pleased that I was able to create something I can enjoy for myself. Though it wasn’t something you would find in a bakery, it was an enthusiastic moment for me because I made it. I showed my parents my mug, the flower design hugging the cup, then, something else blossomed inside me.

 Years later, I wanted to make another mug cookie. So I looked up a simple recipe. I began to like mug cookies because they were simple and sweet. I scavenged around my kitchen to gather ingredients, it was as if I was in a trance. First;the butter, sugar, egg, and vanilla. For the butter I would grab a fork and roughly scoop about 2 tbsps, which looked like a cube. I poured in all the sugar and beat the mixture until light and fluffy. Separating the yolks was always the hardest. I carefully scooped out the raw yolk, swiftly shaking the whites off. Then I would add the dry ingredients; flour, salt, and baking powder. I tap the flour into the mug, particles flying into my face. Then stir. At this point I could add chocolate chips, candy or anything depending on what I’m feeling, but today I wanted to be basic. Once the mixture is ready, I put it in the microwave for 2 minutes. While it cools down I make my specialty; frosting. There's no specific process to this, besides the constant eyeballing and mixing until I have this fluffy, white cream. Add shortening then more sugar, milk then more sugar, almond extract then more sugar, etc. I spread the frosting on the head of the cookie and finish with sprinkles. I grab a spoon from my drawer and bring my creation to my room to watch something, or call someone, or do whatever. Sometimes I would enjoy it, and sometimes I wouldn’t. The more I made it, the more I would adapt the original recipe. Maybe I’ll add chocolate this time, strawberries, more milk, etc. Eventually I began to make whatever I wanted, the recipe growing with me. Once again, I would go to my room, cradling the mug in my hands.. To do whatever. 

 And sometimes they weren’t good. Attempt after attempt. And something that was once simple and sweet became frustrating and sour. Over time, I eventually forgot the reason why I made them in the first place. It was like eating rubber. Maybe it was the process I liked, or the idea of something sugary I can eat in less than 10 minutes. But you can’t rush something sweet. I began to not rush or shame what I made, because I realized this was never meant to be a product, but something I do for me. So I began to put this mixture into the oven, and the result was pretty delicious. This has always been a way for me to enjoy myself, and only myself. A special treat I make whenever I want for whatever I do.