Why Bake Bread When You Can Stack It?

Growing up my mother was never much of a baker or cook. When I used to check out cook books at the library she used to ask me why I needed to bother.

“Why do you want to buy ALL THE INGREDIENTS then take the time to bake something? You can buy chocolate chip cookies in the bakery section of the grocery store.”

Side note: my parents are both practical AF—so I get it. I GOT IT, if you understand what I’m saying.

This debate happened pretty frequently, especially during the summer months when I wanted something productive to do. I wanted fresh baked treats. She thought my time could be better spent elsewhere. “Just buy them already made…” She advised, over and over.

It never occurred to me that food was never a passion for her. Up until a few years ago I used to get extremely frustrated at the fact if I wanted a Thanksgiving dinner on Thanksgiving I would have to make it myself. I could never come home from New York and ask her for kare kare or dinaguan upon arrival. We would have genuine arguments over the fact there was never any food in the kitchen when I came home.

I don’t really know what I expected. I was so conditioned to interpret food as love that when there was no food I was caught off guard. I’m not even sure where that came from, probably just social conditioning I guess, especially since I’m Filipino. 

WHO DOESN’T MAKE SURE YOU’RE WELL FED IN A FILIPINO HOUSEHOLD? 

That’s straight blasphemous, right?

But this isn’t a post to bash on my mother’s lack of desire to provide home cooked meals.

My point is that it literally took decades for me to realize that my mom’s unspoken love language was to set up my sister and I for success. I might not have any recipes to hand down but shit I will happily gush about financial planning, 401ks, and ask you what stock tips you may have.

She drilled it into our heads that we should live life as fiscally lean and independent as possible. 

To be fair it’s difficult to appreciate lectures about saving for rainy days when you’re an adolescent, but I guess her nagging came through one way or another because my sister shared her personal financial spreadsheet and it is almost exactly like the one I’ve created for myself. It even has separate tabs for different purposes like I do. The key takeaway there is… nag the fuck outta your kids and I guess they’ll get it—eventually.

Ever since I have come to this realization I’ve had a newfound respect and love for my mother, because who else is gonna teach you about financial responsibility if it isn’t your actual parents? And fortunately for her, Alton Brown of the Food Network taught me how to cook/bake anyways.

I never really thought there were other love languages out there, but why shouldn’t there be? Humans probably have endless ways to express love, and instead teaching me how to bake bread—my mom taught me how to stack it.