✨ The Gentle Start of the Season
There’s a quiet kind of magic that happens right before the holidays truly begin. The air feels heavier, the daylight fades a little earlier each afternoon, and my kitchen starts to shift — not in a rush, but in a rhythm I know by heart.
The holiday music has already started playing in the background — not because it’s time on the calendar, but because it simply makes everything feel lighter. There’s something about those familiar songs that makes the butter soften faster, the coffee taste better, and the ideas start to flow. They’re my signal that the season is on its way, even if the world outside hasn’t quite caught up yet.
The oven’s been busy, but in a slower, more thoughtful way. One day it’s pumpkin, the next day it’s shortbread. The first test batches always carry this beautiful mix of curiosity and comfort — a reminder that something special is on its way.
This in-between stretch has always been one of my favorite parts of the year. It’s when the lists begin, the ideas start to swirl, and the kitchen becomes my quiet space for reflection. Before the rush of December, before the deliveries, before the clatter of cookie trays and ribbons — there’s this soft hum of anticipation. It’s a time to look back, to remember what worked, what felt good, and what moments I want to carry forward into the new season.
In my bakery days, this was the moment I’d stand in the quiet before opening — lights on, ovens warm, trays lined and ready — and take a deep breath before it all began. There was always a sense of calm in that moment, even knowing how busy the day ahead would be. That same feeling finds me here, year after year, no matter how my work has evolved. It’s the pause before the excitement, the inhale before the holidays truly arrive.
Now, my kitchen hums with a different rhythm — smaller batches, slower pace, but just as much heart. There’s room for creativity again. For testing, tasting, and rediscovering old favorites. The recipes might have changed form — from bakery shelves to Baker’s Boxes — but the intention is the same: to share something made with care, something that reminds people of simpler times.
This little in-between season feels like a bridge between what was and what’s next. The first whispers of Christmas mixed with the last traces of autumn — cinnamon still lingering in the air from pumpkin loaves, while trays of shortbread start to fill the counter. The kitchen light glows a little warmer against the early dusk, and even the simplest batch feels like a small celebration of what’s to come.
So I’m easing into the holidays the way I love best: slowly, intentionally, with a cup of coffee in one hand and a whisk in the other. The cookies will come, the boxes will fill, the music will get louder — but for now, it’s about savoring the calm before the Christmas sparkle.
This is where the season begins for me — in the quiet moments, the soft scrape of a mixing bowl, and the comforting rhythm of recipes coming back to life.
Here’s to the in-between — where anticipation lives, and tradition starts to whisper again.