Do Something Repetitive
I never knew my younger sister would be a cake artist by every measure by the time we were adults. She always loved baking ever since she began making gourmet cake pops in the purple contraption I gifted her back in 2009. Over the past ten years, she has now become a renowned cake artist in the DC/Maryland/Virginia area (mashaAllah) through the long hours of practice she put into her baking.
My relationship with baking is not quite the same.
As much as I admire her talent, I get exhausted just by watching the process. Beyond the vicarious toil, I have a terribly hard time following recipes exactly as they’re written. “A cup of sugar?!” “ Oh, that’s far too much, I’ll just cut it down to 3/4 cup,” I tell myself as I defiantly alter recipes with no proven success from past baking experiments to warrant any confidence. I’m not sure why I can’t follow a recipe, but if I were to take a guess, it’s because I have a general preference for things that are not exact and have plenty of room for experimenting to make them my own. That’s not to say I’m always pleased with the results, which is why baking and I have a complicated relationship, but I love the idea of making art as opposed to following a science.
Last Eid, I felt the daunting pressure to bake something extravagant like many creative mums, but instead of baking the way I’ve seen my sister bake, I thought to try working with phyllo dough and make baklava instead. I looked over the “recipe” and felt a jolt of possibility. “Now this is something I can do!” I thought. The whole recipe was more of a process rather than exact measurements. Just my area of expertise!
I set out my phyllo dough, chopped nuts, and melted butter, while my sugar syrup bubbled away on the stovetop. I began by buttering my dish, adding a layer of phyllo, then the nuts, and rhythmically repeating each step as I had my Qur’an player on in the background. I felt an easiness I hadn’t felt before with baking. This simple act of layering, brushing, sprinkling, repeating, and watching the dish come together so seamlessly allowed me to create my dish in a way that honoured my estimations and my ideas of what “just enough” felt like for each layer. It allowed me to stay present with the thoughts floating in my mind and make each step special with my touch. Even if the recipe appeared tedious at first, I found myself making several baklavas over the next few months just so I could enter that repetitive, rhythmic space once again.
I noticed a similar feeling when I began knitting and crocheting, or when I’m practicing hand lettering in calligraphy script. Not only does the repetition offer guaranteed improvement over time, but it also brings out calming, predictable energy that I can’t seem to find in other practices. I feel more focused, less prone to hastiness, and lower stress levels overall. I may never bake a three-layer cake in my life like my sister, but I find comfort in knowing I can always turn to my freezer and pantry to pull out a roll of phyllo and nuts to create decadent baklava layered with my special and imperfect touch.
Writing Prompts // Reflection
When was the last time you did something repetitive? What did it feel like?
Consider doing any of the following as a repetitive practice:
Run around the block a few times
Open up a colouring book
Knitting or crocheting
Reciting the same ayah or passage 10+ times
Drawing the same object in slight variations each time
Hand lettering practice
Following a recipe with repetitions such as making a lasagna, a layered cake, pie, or .. baklava
Organize a space by color or size
Shoot hoops
