I come from a long line of determined, focused, talented and overtly patient, amateur bakers.

They made sweets, treats and breads that would fill their houses with an aroma powerful enough to send the mildest diabetic into a coma through scent alone.

Against all gender odds, I picked up the bug and dove into the world of baking. Looking back, I can see there was not going to be much of a choice in the matter. I had gotten hooked on the “white stuff” since I was a child sneaking into the kitchen and dipping a wet finger into the sugar container for hit to power my next several hours of…whatever I did as a kid.

Here is the thing about baking, though…it is a cruel and fickle lover. Enticing you to a world of heavenly concoctions just beyond the preparation and pages of the recipe while knowing full well the fight it will take to accomplish the proclaimed end product.

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As usual during this time of year, my wife and I end up commenting on how quickly the holidays have come upon us again and try to remember what actually happened during the blur of time passed.

We always start with the big events. Memorable vacations. Personal milestones. Business successes. Changes in our daughter. Playing basketball again after breaking my ankle a year and half prior and completing my first 360 dunk (kidding…I can barely touch the rim).

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