Bedtime with Mrs.
Honeybee.
Today,
In the Honeybee neighborhood,
We'll be baking.
And I may even reveal my special ingredient.
Hey,
What's this special ingredient?
How come I don't know this?
I'm your BFF.
You'll know it when you hear it,
Melody Bee.
Any guesses?
Caramel.
What?
What?
Oh,
Oh,
Oh.
Caramel.
Sometimes,
I just like to say the fancy version.
Caramel.
No,
Mr.
Honeybee.
No caramel.
I mean caramel.
This ingredient is much sweeter.
This special ingredient is unlimited.
I've got to pop out to the garden to grab a little more cinnamon.
I'll be back in just a moment.
Then,
We'll talk about the special ingredient.
Thank you.
All you have to do is close your eyes,
Get cozy,
And listen to the sound of my voice.
Mrs.
Honeybee will be your guide.
Let's begin.
You are here at our doorstep,
Waiting to hear Harold hear you and scurry around the stairs before crash landing right into the door.
As if on cue,
Melody Bee arrives to have trouble with the new locks that Roger Robot insisted we install.
Not today.
After several attempts,
But much fewer than last time,
Melody Bee swings the door wide open.
You've prepared by standing back,
Because you know by now that the two of them will be so happy to see you that they will clobber you with hugs.
You hug your hellos and wipe the puppy kisses from your cheek and follow your nose inside,
Where the smell is unidentifiable,
But delicious.
My little Honeybee,
There you are.
Now you don't have to be the only taste tester,
Mr.
Honeybee.
Dorn,
I think our little Honeybee needs to help out Melody Bee and Harold with something out in the garden,
Right?
Just until you slice up that blueberry pie.
No,
He's fibbing.
We all get to taste test.
Then with my laser precise cuts,
There won't be enough for everyone to taste test and have enough to hand out to the neighbors.
We can just taste test this one to make sure the whole thing is delicious.
Then give the neighbors the next one.
Sounds perfect to me.
What sense does that make?
Then how will we know the other pies are good to go?
That they won't have a clump of salt or baking soda just waiting to be chopped?
If we must do a second round of taste testing,
I will.
I guess I can do it too,
For all the pies.
It's hard work,
But someone's got to do it.
Hey,
I can taste test the other pies too,
Too.
While Mr.
Honeybee,
Roger Robot,
And Melody Bee verbally spar over who will taste test what and why,
We quietly slice up the blueberry pie and sit down at our places at the table with some sparkling apple cider.
Cheers to the real taste tests,
My little honeybee.
Okay,
So we'll each get a bite,
One bite out of the pies.
That'll be enough.
That is not an adequate sample size.
You take a bite over here and over there?
Oh,
That's a baking soda clump.
What if we give away pie slices so our neighbors can get slices from the taste tested pies?
That's the only way I see through this.
The only way.
That should work.
That does sound good.
What do you think,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Wait,
They're already taste testing without us.
Without another thought to method or sample sizes,
Each of them slices their piece and joins us at the table.
Whereas the kitchen was full of the sounds of debate just seconds ago,
It is now luxuriously quiet with the sounds of happy bellies.
Take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Bring your attention to your taste buds and allow yourself to experience each and every sweet,
Tart and satisfying note until you finish your slice.
Then slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and sit back into the comfy chair,
Savoring the delicious tastes that linger in your mouth.
Mrs.
Honeybee,
Tell us,
How do you make these so good?
It shouldn't be possible.
Maybe it's actually illegal how good this is,
But we just don't know it.
Maybe we shouldn't give these out.
There is nothing in the local Honeybee neighborhood statutes about pies.
I think we're safe,
Melody Bee.
Good.
Well?
How do you do it,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Hmm.
Well,
I use heirloom recipes that have been handed down in the Honeybee family for generations.
That's definitely part of it.
But the other part has to be the love.
You're probably tasting the love,
My loves.
Ah,
That makes sense.
That must be it.
How does that make sense?
Is love an actual ingredient,
Mrs.
Honeybee?
Love cannot be an ingredient.
Don't be silly,
Roger.
Love is the most important ingredient.
For baked goods?
For everything.
What about flour?
Sugar?
Eggs?
Those are important,
Too.
Don't get me wrong.
It's not a competition between ingredients.
They're all important in their own ways.
And that is what the love does once you put it in.
How do you add love?
How do you add love?
Well,
I have a bunch more baked goods to make for the neighbors.
I'll show you.
We quickly rinse our plates and set them up in the drying rack before turning to an orderly assembly line of baked goods in various stages of preparation.
There are cookies,
Cakes,
Pies,
Candies,
And even some vegetable dishes for dinner that we're giving away to our beloved neighbors just for funsies.
Your eyes feast on the array of sweets and savories before you stand beside Melody Bee in front of a baking sheet full of blondies that are ready to be wrapped up.
So these.
How would you add love to these?
Actually,
What are these?
Those are blondies for our neighbors who don't like the taste of chocolate.
I made them with chickpeas.
Garbanzo beans?
Same thing.
Added a bit of nut butter and honey to the beans slash chickpeas and topped them off with a layer of candied pecans.
They're scrumptious and full of nutrients.
This is another one of Yumma the Chef's recipes.
I wish I wasn't so full.
We need to make sure those are taste tested pronto.
Did you already add the love to these then?
Yes,
Those already have some love in them.
But the great thing about love is there can never be too much.
I'm sure there can be.
Won't it get mushy?
It might.
Let's be judicious with the love for now.
You all take your places standing on either side of me as I demonstrate exactly how to do it.
First,
We use the spatula to scrape the blondies out of the pan one by one with enough care to not crumble them.
Then we individually wrap them up in our compost friendly paper and tie it with a little bow at the top.
Now each of the blondies look like gifts and the care of attention to detail we've given them will pass along the love in our hearts to the gift itself.
And that is how we add love.
Well,
One way at least.
There are infinite ways to add love to things you make and do.
Infinite,
You say?
Yes,
Roger.
Infinite.
Here,
Let's start this batch of red velvet cupcakes.
Mr.
Honeybee,
Can you grab a couple beets from the pantry?
Beets?
For the cupcakes?
How else are they going to turn red,
My dear?
Our love!
And the beets?
Two beets coming up.
We each take turns filling up the blender with ingredients for this recipe.
And when we're all done and in the middle of a riveting conversation about whether cucumbers are fruits or vegetables,
We start it.
Before we know it,
Whirls of red velvet cupcake batter whip against the counter,
The floor,
The ceiling,
And even us.
It's in my eyes!
Oh no,
Melody Bee.
I can't even see you to help.
Oh no,
It's ruined.
All of the love we put in there is ruined.
Actually,
This is perfect.
Perfect?
Before Melody Bee can worry a moment longer,
I use a tiny teaspoon to scoop up some batter and launch it at both Mr.
Honeybee and Melody Bee,
Effectively starting a batter battle.
When we're making or doing things with love,
We know that they may not come out perfect.
We also know that unexpected things can go wrong,
Like forgetting to secure the lid to the blender before turning it on.
But rolling with the flow of those mishaps,
Rather than fearing them,
Or worse,
Being discouraged by them,
Is how you preserve all the love.
It's the intention,
The effort,
And the care that we put in that matters,
Not how it looks or how perfect it is according to some lofty standards.
So,
As to not lose too much batter to the battle,
We get back to blending the ingredients together.
Roger Robot measures each granule of sugar and salt,
Momentarily forgetting that perfection is not the goal.
Melody Bee reminds him when she takes a big breath in and blows all the excess granules of sugar into the batter without any precision.
Now we don't know how much we added.
Let's just assume it was the perfect amount.
It's about the love,
Roger.
Well,
Perfect is not the word I'd use,
Mrs.
Honeybee.
Are you sure we can't add too much love?
I promise,
Roger.
Experiment with the cookies by your heart's example and take a slow,
Deep breath in through your nose.
Feel the sensation of your heart beating once,
Twice,
Three times.
Then,
Slowly breathe all the way out through your mouth and pour the batter generously into the cupcake mold,
Allowing it to overflow just like your heart does with love and joy.
So,
None of us have to risk our hands in the heat of the oven.
Roger Robot switches to his heat-resistant hands to put each new batch in the oven and take the finished batches out.
As they come out of the oven,
Looking and tasting wonderful and love-filled,
We take little nibbles of taste tests.
Each one is better than the last and ready to be shared.
In an assembly line,
We wrap each one up and tie it with a bow or find a perfectly suited plate to present it on.
Melody Bee had an idea to include little love letters with each of the cookies,
And that gave us the idea to make fortune cookies.
Once we got started,
We couldn't stop baking things full of love.
It's so easy to do once you get the hang of it.
Oh,
Maybe we can make a treasure map of treats for the neighborhood to follow one day.
We could use literal breadcrumbs.
Banana breadcrumbs.
Oh,
That gives me an idea.
I have to show you all how to work some extra love into bread.
This is a special one.
Step by step,
I demonstrate how to make my grandmother's grandmother's homemade bread recipe.
We mix the ingredients and then the dough until it is a smooth mound in the stand mixer.
We take it out and gently place it in a covered bowl so the yeast can help it rise up and puff.
So each piece is light and fluffy.
After a short while resting,
We take out the dough and see that it has quadrupled in size.
We pry it out of the ball and dust it with a layer of flour.
Then comes the most important part.
The yeast worked its magic by creating little bubbles that make the bread fluffy.
But the yeast is so good at its job that it sometimes creates big bubbles that leave holes in the loaf.
So to catch all the extra bubbles,
We give the flour dough the biggest,
Squeeziest hugs we can and smoosh it back down to a manageable,
Bubble-free size.
Each little step is an opportunity to add love in whatever way you can.
You don't even have to use the same methods twice.
We allow our hearts to guide us through the recipes and in the process,
All the love and joy we have in our hearts finds its way into what we make and from there to other people.
When we've baked,
Cooked,
Poached,
And blended everything we had in the kitchen,
We can finally sit down to rest.
Filled with sweets from a day of taste testing,
I put on a pot of chamomile tea for us to sit by the fire while the last loaf of bread is baking.
Did I ever tell you about the time a song found its way into a lasagna I made?
Oh,
I remember this.
Tell us again,
My dear.
When a new neighbor moved in across the street,
I wanted to welcome them with a homemade lasagna.
So,
I got to work making the noodles from scratch,
Chopping,
Prepping,
Baking everything.
While I was simmering the tomato sauce,
One of my favorite big band songs trumpeted into my ears.
It was like the biggest big band band was right here in the kitchen.
I was bopping along,
Layering the cheese and the noodles,
Adding in oodles and bunches of love,
Just singing my song to myself.
Well,
I know this method of making food with love works because,
Wouldn't you know,
When the neighbors returned the dish after finishing it,
They said that that very song was stuck in their heads for days.
They had never listened to big band before,
And now it's one of their favorites.
We bonded over our shared love of lasagna and big band at the door.
So,
Your love finds its way into what you make and maybe a song or two.
Always remember,
Mrs.
Honeybee believes in you.
You are special and you are loved.
I can't wait to see you again.
