I blame Bessie for my baking obsession.
For those among us who have never been blessed by Bessie’s presence, she is the 1995 Dodge Neon that I drove during my four years of college. And by “drove,” I really mean “prayed would start and somehow manage to make it the 10 miles I needed to go to get to work every day.”
It’s September. Starbucks has once again rolled out its Pumpkin Spice Latte. I’ve heard rumors of 60-degree temperatures. Football season has (officially?) started. Ann Taylor Loft is full of beautiful sweaters in charcoal grays, antique burgundys, and vintage blues. Colors that just scream fall.
They taunt me from the check-out line at the grocery store. “Buy me.” “Eat me.” “You know you want to.”
You’ve heard them, too, no doubt. They’re persistent little things.
But I have willpower. I walk triumphantly past them and pay the cashier for my basket of fruits and veggies. Victory.
…and then I go home and make them myself.
Because, who doesn’t love a Hostess cupcake, after all?