In Defense Of Baking
Mar. 30th, 2026 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leeseokminTo date, the best gift I have ever received is Claire Saffitz’s Dessert Person. While it isn’t the first cookbook I have owned (that honour goes to Kristina Cho’s Mooncakes & Milkbread—very SF choice, I’m aware), I’ve made more recipes from Dessert Person than any other cookbook in my possession.
This post is ambitious: it is a combination of an overview, highlighting my favourite recipes so far, outlining my baking goals in relation to Dessert Person this year, and an overall reflection of it after three years of baking from it. It is also a foray into writing—it’s been a while since I’ve written anything because of writer’s block but I’m hoping this takes away the fear of it, seeing as baking is my second favourite thing after writing.
What is Dessert Person?
Dessert Person is divided into seven sections, including a section dedicated to foundational recipes. On average, each section contains 15 recipes. For the purpose of this post, I’ll be talking about the six primary sections. In total, there are 90 recipes, which are helpfully laid out in a recipe matrix, with the Y-axis representing the difficulty level (on a scale of 1-5), and the X-axis representing the total time for the recipe (inclusive of chill time). The recipe matrix is my favourite feature of the book because it simplifies the decision making process: if you’re at a certain skill level, and you only have a specific amount of time available to you, the matrix makes it easy to choose. It also presents an alternate method of progression through the recipes; following the matrix in order of difficulty allows you to build on your technical skill level as you bake.
Sitting down and writing this, I’ve realised that I haven’t actually baked through much of the book. I’ve certainly spent a lot of time thinking about baking from the book and perhaps, once or twice, I may have even purchased ingredients with the intention of trying out a recipe, but statistically, I’ve only made 20% of the recipes. For those curious, the section I’ve baked out of the most is the Bars & Cookies section (I did not know this before I sat down to write this post; it doesn’t entirely make sense) with the Layer Cakes & Fancy Desserts and Breads & Savoury sections tying for second (this makes more sense). For the extra curious, I’ve included a full list of the recipes and my progress within a particular section at the end of the overview; the recipes in bold are the ones I have attempted so far. Given that I’ve owned it for three years, I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Embarrassed? Frustrated? I thought about it a bit further and came to two conclusions as to why I’m only a fifth of the way through.
The first is that Saffitz takes a seasonal approach to recipe development. This is built into the page layout: the header of every recipe points out the season it is intended for. To no one’s surprise, the pies and tarts section is driven by summer produce (I did the math: of 15 recipes, 6 use summer produce). This is not a bad thing. After all, it is a universal fact that late June cherries are way better than the April harvest. The problem? Given that Saffitz resides in New York, and I lived in Kuala Lumpur between 2023 and 2025, the fruits that she calls for were inordinately expensive. It would be different if she had a recipe for durian pie (I think this would be delicious, since durian has a custard-like texture) but that is not the case.
The second issue is that the recipes often call for specialty ingredients. This was an easier problem to deal with in Kuala Lumpur, where local bakeries and home bakers alike are chasing standards set in Copenhagen. Ingredients like cornmeal, rye flour, and canned pumpkin puree are now available in export-focused grocery stores, and if not, they are available at Bake With Yen (a local chain of baking supplies that expanded in the wake of post-pandemic baking hobbyists). In Prague, however, these ingredients are difficult to find. Despite the proximity to the Nordic countries, the bakery standards in Prague have been slow to pick up. They’re improving—for sure—but nowhere near Malaysian levels, let alone Nordic ones. Hobby baking also appears focused on traditional Czech, Central European, or Eastern European recipes, which for the large part, are unfussy, often made with pantry staples and a whisk.
Here lies my challenge: how much progress will I make with Dessert Person in the next year, given that my access to ingredients has changed drastically?
( I am a dessert person. )
This post is ambitious: it is a combination of an overview, highlighting my favourite recipes so far, outlining my baking goals in relation to Dessert Person this year, and an overall reflection of it after three years of baking from it. It is also a foray into writing—it’s been a while since I’ve written anything because of writer’s block but I’m hoping this takes away the fear of it, seeing as baking is my second favourite thing after writing.
What is Dessert Person?
Dessert Person is divided into seven sections, including a section dedicated to foundational recipes. On average, each section contains 15 recipes. For the purpose of this post, I’ll be talking about the six primary sections. In total, there are 90 recipes, which are helpfully laid out in a recipe matrix, with the Y-axis representing the difficulty level (on a scale of 1-5), and the X-axis representing the total time for the recipe (inclusive of chill time). The recipe matrix is my favourite feature of the book because it simplifies the decision making process: if you’re at a certain skill level, and you only have a specific amount of time available to you, the matrix makes it easy to choose. It also presents an alternate method of progression through the recipes; following the matrix in order of difficulty allows you to build on your technical skill level as you bake.
Sitting down and writing this, I’ve realised that I haven’t actually baked through much of the book. I’ve certainly spent a lot of time thinking about baking from the book and perhaps, once or twice, I may have even purchased ingredients with the intention of trying out a recipe, but statistically, I’ve only made 20% of the recipes. For those curious, the section I’ve baked out of the most is the Bars & Cookies section (I did not know this before I sat down to write this post; it doesn’t entirely make sense) with the Layer Cakes & Fancy Desserts and Breads & Savoury sections tying for second (this makes more sense). For the extra curious, I’ve included a full list of the recipes and my progress within a particular section at the end of the overview; the recipes in bold are the ones I have attempted so far. Given that I’ve owned it for three years, I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. Embarrassed? Frustrated? I thought about it a bit further and came to two conclusions as to why I’m only a fifth of the way through.
The first is that Saffitz takes a seasonal approach to recipe development. This is built into the page layout: the header of every recipe points out the season it is intended for. To no one’s surprise, the pies and tarts section is driven by summer produce (I did the math: of 15 recipes, 6 use summer produce). This is not a bad thing. After all, it is a universal fact that late June cherries are way better than the April harvest. The problem? Given that Saffitz resides in New York, and I lived in Kuala Lumpur between 2023 and 2025, the fruits that she calls for were inordinately expensive. It would be different if she had a recipe for durian pie (I think this would be delicious, since durian has a custard-like texture) but that is not the case.
The second issue is that the recipes often call for specialty ingredients. This was an easier problem to deal with in Kuala Lumpur, where local bakeries and home bakers alike are chasing standards set in Copenhagen. Ingredients like cornmeal, rye flour, and canned pumpkin puree are now available in export-focused grocery stores, and if not, they are available at Bake With Yen (a local chain of baking supplies that expanded in the wake of post-pandemic baking hobbyists). In Prague, however, these ingredients are difficult to find. Despite the proximity to the Nordic countries, the bakery standards in Prague have been slow to pick up. They’re improving—for sure—but nowhere near Malaysian levels, let alone Nordic ones. Hobby baking also appears focused on traditional Czech, Central European, or Eastern European recipes, which for the large part, are unfussy, often made with pantry staples and a whisk.
Here lies my challenge: how much progress will I make with Dessert Person in the next year, given that my access to ingredients has changed drastically?
( I am a dessert person. )