Sticking with Your Strengths – A Baking Story

September 8, 2023September 8, 2023 / diannbayes / Leave a comment

Cooking is Cool!

From an early age, I remember going to visit my grandparents and watching my grandma make incredible food for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and even snacks with simple ingredients and very little pomp and circumstance.

That’s probably why I have grown to love watching cooking shows, particularly shows like The Great British Bake-Off and The Big Family Cooking Showdown, both BBC series. I think my grandmother would have enjoyed them, too, as I learn so much about other cultures and what they grew up eating and what they consider to be their comfort foods.

I’m Not a Slouch in the Kitchen

I’m not bragging about my cooking prowess but I do believe it’s important for you to know that I’m not bad in the kitchen. I can cook great southern savory staples like buttermilk biscuits and gravy, chicken and dumplings, collard greens and bacon, pinto beans and cornbread, and the list goes on. It’s not my first rodeo.

I can make rustic breads, white breads, pizza dough, and even focaccia from scratch.

My homemade focaccia with decorative herbs, tomatoes, peppers, and olives.

When it comes to desserts, I’m pretty good, too. I’m not intimated by recipes. I read through them, gather my ingredients, and follow the recipe to the letter.

Where Did It All Go Wrong?

I took a week off from work and have been cleaning house, photographing birds in my backyard, and watching the aforementioned BBC cooking shows while sweeping and mopping the floors and folding laundry.

The Brits love to mix it up when it comes to desserts. I’ve watched Paul Hollywood, Mary Berry (before she and Paul went sideways with each other), and Pruh Leith judge many a contestant under the tent for their sticky toffee puddings, treacle tarts, swiss rolls, battenbergs, and sponges. I’ve seen contestants get emotional when Paul told them they had a soggy bottom (okay, you have to watch the show to understand) or Pruh questioned the snap in their biscuits (cookies to us from the USA).

One of my favorite things to watch the contestants make is a macaron, a sandwich-like cookie filled with buttercream, jelly, or ganache, according to Southern Living magazine. Macarons are nothing like the macaroon that we southerners love to devour. Those lovely holiday desserts are made of coconut and offer a chewy, sweet deliciousness when you bite into them.

And Then This Happened…

I had some time on my hands this morning so I thought to myself, “I think I want to try and make macarons. How hard can it be?”

I found a great little website called Sally’s Baking Addiction, with a “Beginner’s Guide to French Macarons” recipe that was ranked with five stars by Google searchers from around the globe. Sally had it going on.

Nearly 2,000 people loved this recipe from sweet Sally so I knew I’d love it, too.

I read through it to make sure I had all the ingredients. Unfortunately, I was short a few eggs so I drove down to the Dollar Store. Don’t judge me. I live in the country and the grocery store was seven miles away. I checked the date on the eggs and they were good to go.

When I arrived back to the house, I got out as many small bowls as I could find so that I could have all my ingredients out and accessible when I began making this favorite recipe of the people.

I sifted the ingredients, per the recipe. I used a candy thermometer to make sure the heated sugar and water were at the right temperature. I whipped the meringues to medium peaks and then combined all of the ingredients together to make the shell.

I even used a piping bag, something I’m not prone to do, but I went for it. I lined the pan with parchment paper. I piped the circles on the cookie sheets.

This is where I may have made my first mistake.

I never could find in Sally’s recipe exactly how many macarons the recipe made, but I’d already made two dozen and I had a lot of the mixture left. Sally’s picture showed two dozen so I could only assume that’s how many it made. Before you go there, yes, I do know what happens when one assumes.

I decided I wanted to make Texas-sized macarons so I went back over the batches with the extra mixture and added them to the original circles that I had created.

Unlike the macarons I’d seen on the TV show, mine started to spread like that first batch of pancake batter you put into the greased pan. The dogs always get the first one because they never turn out right. Or is that just me?

I knew, having watched the cooking shows, that macarons need to dry a bit before you put them in the oven so I left them on the counter to rest for 30 minutes so they had a dry top. Then they were headed to the oven. I looked inside and the top layer of macarons, while very large, didn’t look too bad. The bottom layer started to bubble up like a pancake that needed to be turned. What was happening?

I pulled the pans out of the oven after the required 15-20 minutes cooking time. The flatter macarons looked a bit dark on the bottom but the top pan still seemed a bit pale so I placed them back in the oven for a little more time.

The Final Results

Now I’ve had some great macarons in my life. In fact, I’ve loved them so much at the time that I photographed them for the memory, they were so delicious.

Macarons from a beach-side reception in Galveston.

As you can see below, my macarons look slightly different from the professional versions. While you can’t really tell from the photo, mine are not quite round, in spite of my impeccable piping skills. Most macarons measure around 1.5 to 2 inches in diameter. Mine, on the other hand, came in at a whopping 3-3.5 inches, almost big enough to hold a hamburger patty, if one chose to go the sweet and savory route.

The toothpick holder represents a normal sized macaron.

Once the macaron shells were cooled, you were to add butter cream icing, which I also made from dear Sally’s recipe. For some reason, it came out more like pancake batter than icing. Not to worry, I placed it in the fridge to “harden” a bit.

As you can see, the refrigerator did wonders for the butter cream icing.

The flatter macaron with butter cream spillage.

They say the key to a great macaron is that it should be delicate, almost like a floating cloud when you pop it into your mouth. The outside should have a light crunch with a chewy interior. Few things in my life have been described as delicate, whether it came to describing me or my cooking. I would probably use the word sturdy. I think that is much more fitting.

While I don’t post on this blog often, you might remember my first “Sticking with your Strengths” post when I discussed my inability to make a bow with a bow-maker or decorate a gingerbread house using a pre-made gingerbread kit.

Apparently, I can now add macarons to the things I am challenged by and should not attempt further. It’s important, my friends, to know your strengths, AND to be okay with the fact that you won’t succeed at everything, no matter how hard you try or read the instructions.

And to Sally, please know that my failed attempt at your beginner French macaron recipe is no reflection on you or the other nearly 2,000 people who thought it was the bee’s knees. It truly wasn’t you. It was me.

Until next time…

A Reminder to Live Your Dash

October 11, 2022October 15, 2022 / diannbayes / Leave a comment

A little over seven years ago, I lost a dear friend to illness. She was 57 years old when she passed away, a year younger than I am today. Not long after that, my husband and I took a year off to RV and see the southwest and we did it with Susan “Q” in mind.

Since that time, I encourage others to “live your dash.” That’s the time between the day you were born and the day you die. Life is an incredible gift and we only get one shot at it.

The sticker my husband had made to put on our RV when we traveled in memory of our friend, Susan Q.

I was thinking about this yesterday after hearing a song by fellow Texan Willie Nelson and the late Loretta Lynn called “Lay Me Down.” I’m sharing the link, as the message for me was so good.

“I’ll be at peace when they lay me down.”

Live your dash. Do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. Take trips to places you’ve always wanted to go.

In the words of Mark Twain, “Sing like no one’s listening, love like you’ve never been hurt, dance like nobody’s watching, and live like it’s heaven on earth.”

We spend a significant amount of time every week working. In my humble opionion, we should ensure we’re doing work that matters to us, so that we may fill our souls and not just our bank accounts. Live your dash!

The Road Not Taken Can Get Pretty Bumpy

October 8, 2022October 9, 2022 / diannbayes / Leave a comment

I have always loved the Robert Frost poem The Road Not Taken since I first read it more than 40 years ago. As a teenager and young adult, I couldn’t appreciate exactly what it meant, I only knew that I liked it. As I have experienced more and more life, the meaning for me is clearer. Is it the meaning Frost intended? Most likely, it isn’t, but it’s certainly what I interpret it to mean for me. It’s not that simple to explain without a little context.

A Short History

Having lived in 22 cities and towns in my life, 20 of those in Texas, I have met a number of interesting people. Most came in for only a few months or years, while others have been around a majority of my life. In the words of For Good from the musical Wicked, “Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better, but because I knew you, I have been changed for good.” Whether good or bad experiences, these individuals all contributed to the person I am today.

Faith

While I grew up southern baptist, I haven’t been affiliated with a church for decades. However, I’ve continued with my faith in God. For me, I’ve found more commitment in that faith through music, reading, and prayer at home or while surrounded by nature. For those of you who prefer a service in a church building, I’m glad it works for you. It’s not my thing for many reasons, but those reasons are not enough to keep me from continuing to have faith.

My Current Reality

Over the past year, I have experienced challenges that were foreign to me. I didn’t recognize until this week that I was allowing those challenges, and those who have played a role in them, to murder my joy. I had become depressed and had little interest in doing anything besides watch television. Even then, I wasn’t really absorbing what I was watching. I wasn’t present. I was only there.

A Look at the Road

Yesterday, the Robert Frost poem came to mind and because this is not only about my personal views, it is also about my literal views, I’m sharing a photo that sums up how I’ve been feeling.

A photo I took while camping a few years ago at Guadalupe River State Park near Boerne, Texas.

While the picture is not of an actual road in Texas, it represents how traveling through some of the challenges along life’s journey may feel. We are delusional to think it will always be smooth and easy. That’s not really how it works. Certainly, some have it better than others, but I believe that is due to their faith – faith in a higher power and faith in themselves. I was losing that, especially when it came to faith in me, because I was second guessing myself because of what others said about me. Looking back on it now, I seemed to revert back to my awkward teenage years when people’s words hurt and I didn’t have the maturity to understand from where their hurtful comments came. It’s not a good feeling and I don’t recommend it.

Footprints in the Sand

No one could help me bring that back, except me, with help from God.

Another poem that I love was written by Mary Stevenson and is called Footprints in the Sand. It resonated with me this morning.

Photo of the Footprints in the Sand park in Carthage, Texas.

The number of times my footprints have disappeared and been replaced with only one set is too many to count. God has been with me during my rockiest of moments and I believe God will continue to walk by my side. I also believe I will feel the occasional nudge directing me to get back on the road and not take an unnecessary detour along the way. After all, we can all be squirrels, distracted by the newest, shiniest object along our paths.

Where Do I Go from Here?

I sit in the quiet of a space I’ve grown to love, listening to the birds chirp, the rooster crow, the dogs bark, and the wall clock tick. I take a few breaths and enjoy the solitude of now.

I remember a quote from Admiral James Stockdale, known as the Stockdale Paradox, “You must never confuse faith that you will prevail in the end—which you can never afford to lose—with the discipline to confront the most brutal facts of your current reality, whatever they might be.”

Am I ready to face reality? I think so. Should I be fully confident? Maybe. I do recognize that the road not taken that I’ve chosen for my life is filled with all sorts of detours and distractions. How I choose to face those is up to me.

As I contemplate, I recognize the promise of a new day, a new hope, and a new adventure. That keeps me going for the time being. Here’s to finding the joy again and being the best I can be in the time I have been blessed to have on this earth. Onward and upward!

What Happened to Their Golden Ticket?

September 26, 2021September 26, 2021 / diannbayes / Leave a comment

I recently completed a couple of weeks of business travel. My last stop was five days in Las Vegas, Nevada, for an international conference. As I always do when I hit the road, I took a huge number of photos of the trip, trying to capture the architecture of Vegas, both inside and out, and the various casinos that pattern the skyline in such a dramatic fashion.

One of my favorite spots was The Bellagio, a beautiful property, known for its famous Fountains of Bellagio experience, offered daily every 30 minutes in the afternoons and evenings.

While the fountain show was incredible, the inside of the hotel/casino was even more spectacular. On my first day, I walked over to the lobby and enjoying the beautiful fall colors before I even made it through the revolving doors. Like a pied piper, the decorations lead me to a fairy land of delight. I captured photo after photo of tiny characters living under toadstools and in trees, while animal characters slept on rocks by flowing rivers. The words of Roald Dahl, who wrote Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, came to mind while I was exploring the fantasy world The Bellagio had created, “If you want to view Paradise, simply look around and view it.” It truly was spectacular.

The city in the evening is stunning with the beautiful neon lighting up the night from Paris Las Vegas to the Hard Rock Cafe to Planet Hollywood. Day or night, you can view art at Caesar’s Palace or take a gondola ride at the Venetian. There truly seems to be something for everyone…well, it would seem.

Because I’d been trying to get 10,000 steps in per day, I walked a LOT along the streets of Sin City. In the pictures I’ve shared here and others I shared on social media posts, you might not notice the way I cropped some of them. I was purposeful with my cropping. I thought I’d done a good job of hiding something I didn’t want to share. However, in looking at my cropped photos, I found one I thought made a particular statement. If you look closely at the photo below I snapped in the middle of the day, you might notice something a little different from the rest. At the bottom of the iconic golden arches of McDonalds, a person is sleeping on the artificial grass. As someone who has a tough time falling asleep in the best of conditions, I couldn’t imagine how anyone could sleep in the desert heat with the daily noise surrounding them. Did this person come to Vegas looking for their golden ticket?

In the photo below of The Mirage and its lovely water feature, I was literally two feet away from a man sleeping on the concrete using a partially-full 12 pack of beer as a pillow. Steps away from him slept another man in the shade of a walking bridge and across from him was a man sleeping on the floor of an opulent glass elevator used to take people up one floor to the afore mentioned bridge. The irony of the advertisement for The Beatles Love by Cirque du Soleil wasn’t lost on me, nor was the beauty of the water and sky, knowing I was beside a man choosing a concrete sidewalk as his bed for the evening.

Right under the perfume bottle of Chanel and other celebrity fashion designers and restauranteurs scattered throughout the city was a dirty little secret. In the early morning hours, while most were sleeping after a long night of celebrating, gambling, and going to shows, the street sweepers and leaf-blowers were removing, not leaves, but the pamphlets, flyers, and baseball-style, escort cards from the night before, given out by the porn slappers and show pushers. I watched as the garbage was blown toward these individuals, either choosing to be homeless or forced into it by decisions made in their pasts. I was immediately saddened by the entire situation. Saddened, but, ashamedly, not enough to offer any assistance to those who most definitely appeared to be in need.

I know I have prejudices or biases toward people who “portray” themselves as homeless and I’m not too ashamed to admit it. Some of that comes from working in Austin a few years ago. On my commute to work, I saw a very pregnant looking woman holding a sign stating she was nine months pregnant. The first time I saw her, the light was green and I kept going. The next few weeks, I continued to see her. She was nine months pregnant for more than six months on the same corner. Her sign alone left a bad taste in my mouth, as I knew it wasn’t true.

Another man had a picture of his two-year-old son who was terminally ill with cancer. Throughout the four years I worked in the city, I saw this man with the same sign. The child’s age never changed, nor did his picture. Did the man even have a child? I have no idea but because he never made corrections to the sign, I found it hard to believe him. I hope, if he did have a son, that the young boy is okay.

I share this with you as a reflection on myself and us as a nation. I recently watched as the border in my home state of Texas has been dealing with immigration challenges. Thousands of Haitians were under a bridge in the town of Del Rio. I have friends who protested a similar situation about the way people were being treated under the Trump administration and other friends who remained silent. The same friends who protested the treatment under President Trump have said nothing under President Biden and those who were quiet under President Trump are now being vocal under President Biden. Instead of focusing on how to fix the situation, we’re focusing on whether there is a D or an R in front of the leadership’s name. Much like my photos, we’re cropping out the situation to focus on something totally different.

I’m unsure about the way things need to be addressed with the homeless and those who are trying to get into the U.S., but I recognize something needs to be done. I am guilty of casting my eyes in the other direction. In Las Vegas, a stranger passed me as we both looked at a man sleeping on the sidewalk. He asked me, “Is he okay?” I responded, “Not sure.” We then both passed the man, not stopping to find out for sure. When I went by that same spot a few hours later, the man was gone. My hope is he found food, water, and shelter, but I have no way of knowing for sure.

On my final night in Las Vegas, I saw the Statue of Liberty at New York, New York and it gave me pause. I was surrounded by buildings that cost millions and millions of dollars to construct. The city was lit up like a Christmas tree. Visitors were everywhere and we were walking past those living on the streets, as if they didn’t exist. A song came to my head by the singer Christine Lavin. It’s called Somebody’s Baby. Part of the lyrics are “That’s when I saw her all dirty and ragged, drinking a bottle of wine. I turned my head, walked right on by, but one thing stayed in my mind. She once was Somebodys Baby. Someone bounced her on his knee. Do you think he has any idea, what his little girl has turned out to be?”

The Bellagio decorations of tiny fairies living under toadstools and animals sleeping on rocks offered a vast contrast to those living on sidewalks and sleeping under bridges.

I will admit to enjoying my time in Las Vegas, much like people enjoy their time in my city when they are visiting. However, the memory of those I saw on the streets the five days I was there are heavy on my heart. We have some of those same people here, as do most cities and towns across this great nation. Many are known to suffer from mental illness, but we sweep that thought away and choose not to address it as a nation as much as I believe we should. It is uncomfortable and we are a people who like and are accustomed to our comforts.

Perhaps it’s time for us to come together to address these needs as a united voice and not a D or an R or even those who are unaffiliated. As I shared earlier, I’m unsure how but the blame game has got to stop. It is rampant and we are not seeking to understand. We don’t seem to want to understand. How nice would it be for us to find a solution. We should seek to, as Roald Dahl wrote, “So shines a good deed in a weary world.” How can we provide the good deed? I’m open to suggestions and to ALL of us listening to each other to find the answers.

Have we forgotten?

September 11, 2021September 11, 2021 / diannbayes / Leave a comment

In February of 2019, I was fortunate enough to fly to New York City for a work trip. I admittedly had trepidations prior to my visit, which is really unlike me when I travel. I had never been to a city this large and the vastness of it all intimidated me a bit. While I’ve lived in a few large cities, I’m really more of a country girl and prefer the wide open spaces. I suppose I also watch too many crime shows that take place in NYC and was nervous I’d get mugged or worse while walking around by myself. New Yorkers are also not portrayed in the nicest ways so I went with preconceived notions running around in my head.

View from my hotel room at the Millennium Hilton New York One UN Plaza.

The trip was magical, especially for an amateur photographer. I clocked over 30 miles on my Fitbit between appointments and, after my work day was done, I took hundreds of pictures with my Nikon and my cell phone. I didn’t want to miss anything. I wanted to experience it all.

I ate lunch at a Top Chef restaurant near the United Nations, enjoyed a hotdog from a vendor by Central Park, and grabbed a slice from a pizza place in the basement of a high-rise.

I got yelled at by a woman working at a bagel shop for taking too long to decide on my order. The line was long and she had people to assist who knew what they wanted. I sat by a fashion designer who offered me a bite of his Asian dish, because he said his was better than what I ordered and he insisted I try it.

I rode to the top of Rockefeller Center for the incredible view of the city after watching the ice skaters at the iconic rink next door.

I stopped to watch a bubble maker and a saxophone player, seemingly ignoring the crowds to do their own thing, and saw the infamous T-Rex at the American Museum of Natural History.

I visited Grand Central Station, looked at the subway cars (wasn’t quite brave enough to figure that out on my own), and walked over to Times Square because that’s what you do when you’re a tourist in NYC. I checked off a great deal in only five days.

While I would have loved to see a Broadway show, the one thing I knew I had to experience when I arrived in the city happened on my last day.

On February 7, 2019, a little before dusk, I took an Uber two miles to the memorial site and museum dedicated to those who lost their lives at the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. When I arrived, I walked around the dedication to those lost on that horrific day 20 years ago. Decisions made by those trapped due to the location of the airplanes flying into the buildings were even more impactful when I saw the vastness of the area and could see for myself the height of the adjacent One World Trade Center next door to the memorial. It was apparent for me that I was standing not only on a memorial site but also on an unconventional cemetery dedicated to 2,977 individuals, some who died there and others who lost their lives in Shanksville, PA, and Washington, D.C.

When I entered the 9/11 Museum, I saw the familiar remnants of the building and reminders of that day. The steel beams, the staircase, and the remains of the Ladder 3 Fire Truck left an image in my mind I will not soon forget.

Seeing the smiling faces of those lost that day through photos on a seemingly never-ending wall and hearing the recordings of their voices from messages left on phones or answering machines, struck me with a grief I was not prepared for and I had the desire to run away. I didn’t KNOW these people but I DID know them as my fellow American citizens and people from across the globe who innocently started their day that quickly ended in unforeseen tragedy and loss.

When you’re young and learning about history in school, you tend to read the few paragraphs in your assigned text book and move on without much feeling. I’m sure I was that way when I learned about World War One, the holocaust, and the Vietnam War. Being married to a Vietnam Veteran for 22 years opened my eyes to the true impact on someone who lived it. The same can be said for those in New York City, Washington, D.C., and Shanksville, Pennsylvania, who were there and saw things unfold before their eyes. I only saw it on the screen and know the impact it had on me.

Twenty years later, many people seem to have the desire to sweep that tragic day under the rug, but I believe it is imperative we continue to honor this day, those lost, and those who will suffer for years to come. In the words of Spanish philosopher George Santayana, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” which was later paraphrased by former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, “Those who fail to learn from history are condemned to repeat it.”

So many young people living today have no memory of that time, as they were very young or they were not yet born and the anniversary of 9/11 is the only time they learn of the tragedies of that fateful day in America. People read the names, share the stories of their own loved ones, and bells are rung to signify the times of those four horrible incidents in our history, when planes were taken over by terrorists hell-bent on destroying the U.S.A. A field in the Pennsylvania countryside memorializes the heroes who lost their lives while bravely taking on these evil people, so that more tragedy did not take place in our nation’s capital.

For those of you who CAN remember, do you recollect that day? What about September 12? We seemed to all become ONE America. Certainly, flying an American flag in our front yards was an easy way to show our patriotism, but we did it. We did it because we were unsure what else to do. Many young people enlisted, many wrote songs, and still others vowed to not take their lives for granted and do good things.

As others say every year, I suggest we all harken back to September 12, 2001, and try to relive that attitude on a daily basis, when we worked together for the good of this land that we love and it was not based on party lines. We are not Democrat against Republican or us vs. them, we ARE Americans.

Sadly, I have not felt that we are acting like it. I have seen, read, and heard more divided conversations today than I can remember in my 57 years on this earth. We are BETTER than this but we seem to have a my way or the highway mentality. I ask you, where does that get you?

Years ago, I took the Stephen Covey course, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. One of those habits stands out for me today. It is seek first to understand, then to be understood. We all fall short of that philosophy, but I beckon us to do better, to be better. Because we disagree on a topic doesn’t mean one side is wrong and the other side is right. Seldom are things black and white. We all have life events that affect our thinking. Putting everyone in the same category because we choose to do something or not to do something is wrong and unfair, in my humble opinion.

Today, I am struggling with people putting me in a specific category who know nothing about my situation. Sadly, I haven’t said anything to those individuals because I have seen their responses on social media about similar topics and I truly believe they will judge me because they are not willing to listen to my side of the story, so I remain quiet.

A few years ago, I heard former Mayor Rudy Giuliani say, “America was at its best that day.” While I know we can’t always stop tragedies like the one that happened two decades ago on what started out as a beautiful September morning, we can and should come together as Americans without having to rely on a tragedy to make it so.

One of the photos I took in Central Park in New York City struck me that day and is a continued reminder for me of the tragedies that fell upon our country 20 years ago. I have no idea who the gentleman was that is standing with his back to me on a rock in the park, but seeing him look towards the skyline, I wondered who stood there on September 11, 2001, and what were they thinking?

I pray it doesn’t take another incident like 9/11 to remind us of how little time we have on this earth. I have said this before and I try to make it my mantra for life. “This is the only life we’re blessed to have. I want to get out and explore and know I really lived.”