I imagine Betty Crocker standing behind me, fuming in disdain at the first disgraceful chocolate chip cookie recipe I was about to invent. 

The 3am cinnamon scented air burned my eyes, vision blurred from the flour speckling my eyelashes. With ingredients smeared artistically along the walls, floor and ceiling, I was fixated on the feeling of melted butter running down my arms for the first time. The batter, I had only recognized in my European heritage and Western upbringing, felt foreign (and sticky) between my small hands. Dessert, let alone Chocolate Chip Cookies, were a rarely enjoyed delicacy in Thai culture, for I had grown accustomed to fresh fruit alternatives instead, as my mom was a self-proclaimed heath-nut. For me, the oven was a mere decorative piece. The smell of fresh-baked cookies and the heartwarming warmth emitted from an oven door were a fabricated illusion of childhood fantasy of becoming ‘more western’. 

I read over the boxed cookie dough recipe before me, rather unsatisfied. The dough, wafting divine scents, seemed to lack the vibrance of Thai cuisine I often associated with the kitchen: bright red chilis, the fragrance of lemongrass, and the sweetness of a pandan leaf. Minutes pass as creativity buzzes in my veins. Instinctually, I pick up from my shelf coconut milk, basil leaf, and palm sugar, happily watching the ingredients cascade into the metal bowl. 

I giggled at the mess I had created, picturing the anger on my mom’s face, but little did I know, baking would become an essential part of my childhood. I am no stranger to nuances, or strange concoctions myself. I am Thai-Dutch, yet only fluent in English. I chose to explore languages such as Mandarin and Spanish rather than connect with my own heritage, yet feel most comfortable in Western culture. No label fits me with ease, but just like a stray basil leaf in the cookie dough, I accept my role as an outlier, for dissimilarity is the pinnacle of my identity.

The next steps in the recipes are pretty straightforward: mix and bake. I whisk the batter vigorously, feeling it thicken and strain my wrist. The rhythmic beat mimics the quickening beating of my heart, reminiscent of the excitement that persists each time I step into the kitchen. I scoop the batter into perfected round balls of dough, placed precisely 2 inches apart on a baking sheet--measured rather meticulously. 

I impatiently sit, my hand placed on the warm oven door as I watch the cookies flatten, and rise. I like to believe I am reflected in what I bake, yet I am an awful baker. I am unconventional, there is an uncontrollable creative urge within me to add bizzare ingredients and be hopeful that a delicious treat emerges. I do whatever possible in my power to stray from a given recipe, yet be ironically and hypocritically be precise with the dough shape and baking instructions. An organized chaos, if you will.  My inclination towards a personalized twist is a recurring theme throughout my life, an inconsistency I have come to love. 

The moment the warm oven air brushes my face, turning my cheeks a dull pink hue, my mouth salivates. Ignoring the scorching heat, I take a bite. The taste of sugar is overwhelming, the basil bits stuck between my teeth, coconut odor lingering at the back of my throat. The worst cookies I have ever eaten. 

My first baking experience was disasterful, and I am proud to say over 5 years after this incident, I have yet to bake a batch of successful cookies. Yet, weekly, I continue to try. I have learnt to trust myself, let my creativity run wild, and find pride in every cookie my friends deem ‘inedible’. 

The numerous failed attempts throughout my life of cookie-making has taught me to ignore any preconceived notion of how life (or cookies) should be, as no matter what, I will always end up putting my own spin on it. It isn’t just about the basil-coconut-chocolate cookie before me, but the secret ingredient within them. I am the cumulation of all the baking failures which have occurred, and are yet to come. I am meticulous, precise, yet carefree. I am the duality of Thai and Dutch culture, the tastes, values, norms constantly conflicting one another. The knowledge I have gathered from my hobbies and cultural heritage inspire me with a curiosity and passion for life I express not only through my baking, but my perspective on living. I don’t have an answer or a set path as to what my future holds, but I wish to change this mundane chocolate-chip cookie world, one basil-coconut disaster at a time.