Sometimes – many times, even – the answer is simple, and it’s making cookies. Boredom, celebrations, snow days, really sad days, wanting to thank someone, or show that you care about them – they’re all situations that baking an easy batch of cookies can probably improve. I’m not trying to suggest we can solve the world’s problems with cookies, or that we should all be eating our feelings more often. Instead, I feel like it’s the act of baking cookies – a ritual many of us have been performing alongside our parents or grandparents since we had to stand on a stool to reach the countertop – that brings the most joy and calm and can usually put a smile on my face no matter what.

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For me, baking is less about the end game than it is about the journey. Of course, I have a serious sweet tooth and love the satisfaction of eating something delicious that I made myself. But I also get a lot of joy just out of the process of baking. I love precisely measuring all of the ingredients. I love licking the bowl (eggs and all). I love indulging all of my compulsive tendencies and weighing spoonfuls of batter so that every cookie is exactly the same size. In fact, the only thing I don’t love about baking is that I don’t have the metabolism of a 12-year-old and self control was never my strong suit, and I can’t have 48 cookies lying around the house afterwards.

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