Life throws curveballs, and sometimes those curveballs come in the form of a cancer diagnosis. But what happens when a baker faces cancer? They bake! This article explores the cancer experience through the delightful and sometimes dark humor of baking, turning the bitter into something bittersweet. It’s about finding comfort in the chaos, connecting with oneself, and expressing creativity during a challenging time.
From diagnosis to treatment, the journey is filled with unique challenges and unexpected moments. Join us as we delve into the world of ‘Binge and Bake, Cancer Edition,’ where each recipe tells a story of resilience, support, and a refusal to let cancer define the narrative. Discover how baking palmiers, inspired by TV characters and personal experiences, becomes an emotional outlet and a way to reclaim joy amidst adversity.
Binge and Bake, Cancer Edition
Baking, my favorite (okay, only) hobby, became my emotional support activity during cancer treatment. Simple baking; this isn’t one of those “I started a baking empire while getting chemo” inspirational stories, sorry to disappoint. But it kept me grounded during an otherwise insane time. Bonus? No hair net required.
Post-treatment, baking became my way of reconnecting with myself and allowed me to tap into a creative side that wanted to express itself after that dark year. Binge-watching Bridgerton season 3 randomly sparked an idea, and suddenly I was baking scones inspired by the characters.
Thirteen recipes later, armed with my “life’s too short, I don’t give a f*** anymore” attitude post-cancer, I launched Binge and Bake (7 followers and counting, lol). The project will feature recipes inspired by TV characters, music, and now, cancer (shout out to my friend Kate for challenging me to apply the concept to the cancer experience).
Binge and Bake, The Cancer Experience: Palmier Edition
Why palmiers? They’re beautiful to look at. They shatter when you bite into them. They’re chock full of sugar. They’re the perfect homage to being told you don’t look sick while you’re hanging on by your last peeling fingernail, guzzling milkshakes — even though “sugar causes cancer” — because nothing else tastes right. And, they’re quick and easy to make!
If Sheldon Cooper were here, he’d offer you a hot beverage, the perfect inspiration for these palmiers (this pop culture nugget is brought to you by The Big Bang Theory). Rest assured, the palmiers are delicious despite the dark inspiration. Just maybe keep the backstory to yourself if you decide to make them, lol m.
Cancer Diagnosis: Cranberry Hibiscus Apple Cider Vinegar Tea
Your world simultaneously grinds to a halt and shifts into overdrive. You’re mourning folks who ghosted you and fending off trite platitudes. My personal favorite, “life’s not guaranteed, you could be hit by a bus tomorrow.” Now I’m not just worried about cancer killing me but also a bus taking me out on the way to treatment. Awesome.
Vinegar: sour, bitter, and with the kind of burn that feels like it’s eating a hole in your stomach. Perfect. Add a dash of astringent cranberry and tart hibiscus, and you’ve got a sharp, impossible-to-ignore flavor profile. Add some sugar and it transforms into a perfectly tart but sweet bite.
Side Effects: Lapsang Souchong Tea
No one escapes them, and everyone’s journey is unique. I thought I held my own; my hubby tells the story differently. While I was brushing off a laundry list of “manageable” side effects, he was apparently crying inside seeing the impact treatment was having.
I briefly considered lacing this one with Metamucil (my treatment bestie) but opted instead for a smoky Lapsang Souchong tea because it tastes like a literal dumpster fire. Burned mouth, burned skin, fried mind. Sounds about right. I leaned into the smoked notes and paired it with chili powder and brown sugar for a sweet-savory combination that captures the experience’s intensity.
Advice-Givers: Kale Pesto (not a hot beverage, forgive me!)
Some don’t know what to say; others need to stop talking. These folks come armed with unsolicited pearls of wisdom and are inexplicably judgmental as if choosing extensively researched treatment protocols over mega doses of vitamin C and ‘radiating positivity’ makes you a sucker. They would never.
A kale pesto palmier, sugar-free and bursting with kale that’s as lifeless as Suzy’s uncle’s cousin’s sister (who, you guessed it, didn’t survive). Don’t sleep on these palm-sized cancer-curing miracles.
The Treatments: Licorice Tea
Evil but necessary. It makes you feel like you’re dying even as it saves your life (and sometimes it genuinely tries to kill you).
Like treatment, there is a duality to licorice: it’s gross (to everyone but my mother) but oddly good for you. Also like treatment, this one lingers. But when mellowed by warm spices and brightened with orange peel, this palmier earns its place, much like the treatments earn your gratitude while kicking your butt.
Support Peeps: Chai Tea
Your ride or dies. These are the folks going to appointments and sending texts, cards, and Metamucil when you need them most. They just keep driving while eating their French fries when you start puking in the car on the way home from the hospital. Nothing to see here; everything is fine. This is what love looks like. Their lives are impacted too, but you eventually don’t have the energy to feel guilty about it because you are too busy trying to save yourself from drowning.
The warm cinnamon, ginger, and cardamom spices in chai capture the steady, grounding presence they bring day in and day out. It’s the kind of warmth that settles in and stays no matter how tough things get (unlike me, who’d be jumping out of the moving car if you started puking).
The Chemo nurses (my heroes): Honeybush Mandarin and Orange Tea
Denise, my first chemo nurse, clocked me as a newbie from a mile away: deer in the headlights, armed with enough pillows, blankets, Apple devices, and snacks to stock a college dorm. I was as afraid of going into anaphylactic shock as I was of the side effects to come.
Denise had my back that day. She was the first of many compassionate, capable, and funny nurses who carried me through this journey. Chemo day somehow became a bright spot (a low bar, sure, but still).
For their palmiers, I chose a calming and soothing honeybush tea, infused with the bright, uplifting notes of mandarin and orange. It’s a perfect tribute to the people who feel called to this profession.
The IV Benadryl: Lavender Chamomile Tea
It’s Day 1 of chemo, and I’m starting to feel lightheaded, a little dizzy, and flushed. A mild panic sets in. I’m convinced I’m having an allergic reaction. I mention it to Denise, fully expecting her to spring into action, pump me full of steroids, and save me from certain death. She doesn’t — because the chemo drip hadn’t started. Welcome to the wonders of IV Benadryl. It’s a delight!
Lavender and chamomile, sleep aid champions, may not be as aggressive as the IV Benadryl, but their ability to calm and soothe hits the spot after the drain of chemo day.
Warm Blankets: Hot Cocoa
Keeping you warm in the sub-zero infusion room, transforming chemo day into spa day at the worst spa ever. Like hot cocoa on a damp winter’s day, those blankets never got old.
And there it is. A baker’s take on the cancer experience. These palmiers are more than just food; they’re a way for me to look back and overlay the experience with humor to take a bit of the sting out of it all.
If you’ve got the energy, please give these a try. The recipes are available here. I’d love to hear your thoughts! If just reading this made you a little nauseous, big hugs to you. That part, at least, should get better.
Thoughts and prayers to you all!