A Woman's Right

Freshly baked malt and fruit loaf 

Apologies in advance - I had intended talking about my lovely malt and raisin yeast bread (recipe next week I promise), but instead this post is going to be a bit of a tirade. There I was last night, having a leisurely browse through the Culture section of the Sunday Times, when I scanned AA Gill's TV review page. In case you’re not a TV food programme addict like yours truly, you might not be aware that the inimitable Mary Berry has a new cookery show on BBC1. I’ve only watched one episode to date, but so far so enjoyable - the subject was afternoon tea, with scones, sandwiches and cakes (you had me at scones, Mary), though the rest of the series covers everything from dinner parties to picnics. But Gill didn't really review the programme. Instead, he decided to launch an attack on baking, which to me seems a bit like kicking a kitten. Why would you? How on earth can baking be so offensive as to deserve this? 

Gill wasn't terribly nice about Mary Berry, which is simply ill-mannered and unnecessary, but he has form.  He was equally, if not more vile about another Mary when he reviewed her show in 2012 – the incredible Professor Mary Beard, one of the most vibrant and interesting presenters I have seen fronting a documentary series about Ancient Rome - and as you can well imagine, I’ve seen plenty, nerdy archaeologist that I am. (Should you want to, you can read Prof Beard's very eloquent rebuttal to Gill here).  Is it the name do you think? Is there something about Mary? (Sorry, couldn't help myself!) Or is it that he’s threatened by two independent, successful women over the age of forty who dare to show their face on prime-time television? But Gill’s insecurities aside, it was his comment about women and baking that really stuck in my craw:

'Of all the kitchen skills, baking is the broadest metaphor for a thwarted and repressed existence - and it's almost inevitably a woman who will make things rise with a lightness that belies the tension, precision and frustration of their construction. They add heat and ice and all their unused creativity, then present it to some man, who will shovel it into his face. And, with luck, it will kill him.' 

I can’t imagine baking for the sole purpose of giving it to a man to ‘shovel it into his face’, as Gill so nicely puts it (though in fairness - and apologies to my male readers here - given a cake and half a chance, a man will often do just that). Baking is usually just for me, either as a therapeutic activity or because I want something nice to have with a cup of coffee. Occasionally it forms part of a social event – making something to bring to a family get-together or to have when friends call. And somehow, I don't think I'm alone in this. Doubtless, there are women who bake to please the man in their life, in much the same way that some dress to impress men. But in the same way that most women in fact dress to impress other women, I’m sure that this applies equally in the arena of baking cakes.

The sturdy but strange Dammit Doll

When I first read his column, I confess to being so infuriated that I had to whack my Dammit Doll against the wall for a solid five minutes. (In case you've never heard of them, they are stuffed dolls made for the express purpose of slamming about to release frustration. Strange looking but very effective - I can't recommend them enough. Mine was a gift so I've no idea where you might get one, though the oracle of the internet could probably tell you.) I am now calm (a combination of Dammit Doll and yoga) and feeling rather sad for Mr Gill. Whatever happened to him that he resents baking  - and women who bake - this much? His comments were filled with such vitriol. At the end of his column he says that 'I have taught all my children to cook, but never, ever to bake', and while I very much applaud teaching children to cook (it should be mandatory), why not teach them to bake too?

I know first-hand the joy and the sense of wonder and achievement that learning to bake can bring. It is a creative activity, whilst also requiring the learning of practical skills, and has a tangible result that is very satisfying for children (which diminishes not one iota for grown-ups like me who continue to bake). Why would you deprive anyone of this? It also means you save a fortune over the years by not having to buy cakes in bakeries and saves you from having to resort to nasty processed supermarket offerings.

Toasted fruit and malt loaf

Women, in most Western or developed countries at least, are no longer tied to the kitchen and forced to slave over a hot stove for lack of any other option. The fact that I can live as I choose, have a career, travel freely and not be trapped by marriage and children, forced to live under the rule of a man, is something that I value immensely. So many women in the world still don’t have such freedoms - an article about women in Saudi Arabia, which also appeared in the Sunday Times last weekend, was a salutary reminder of that. It seems appropriate, given that last week was International Women’s Week, to take the time to appreciate the gift we were given by the women who fought in the 19^th and 20^th centuries for independence and equality. As an independent woman who bakes to please herself, I’m now off to have a mid-afternoon coffee with a piece of delicious, home-made Maltana, toasted and buttered. Mr Gill, you don’t know what you‘re missing.