Who Wants To Lick The Bowl

Who Wants to Lick the Bowl?
I remember Mum calling out from the kitchen. “Who wants to lick the bowl?” and that was it. No matter what we were doing, we’d drop everything and race in, hoping to get first dibs. There was something so good about that raw mixture. Butter, sugar, eggs and flour, how could something so simple taste that heavenly?
To be honest, Mum didn’t bake cakes all that often. And when she did… well, sometimes the magic stayed in the bowl. I’m not sure what happened between that tasty delight and the finished product, but the joy was in the making, not just the baking.
These cakes are the kind that aim to keep the magic right through to the final slice. Fool proof, full of flavour, and generous enough to share, but I wouldn’t blame you if you still wanted to lick the bowl first.
I don’t know about you, but when I think of baking as a child, it’s not the finished cake that comes to mind. It’s the bowl. The wooden spoon. The sticky grin. That glorious moment when the last bit of sponge mix had been scraped into the tin and someone handed me the bowl with a quiet “Go on then.”
No one ever said it out loud, but we all knew the rules. If you helped stir, you got first dibs on the bowl. If there were two of you, someone got the spoon and someone got the beater, a fair split of the spoils. And if you were especially lucky, Mum would leave just a smidge more mix behind than strictly necessary. A little gift in batter form.
Even now, I catch myself licking the spoon while baking and thinking, Yep,  still got it.
Back then, it felt like magic. The smell of butter and sugar in the air, flour dusting the worktops, and the sound of Radio 2 humming quietly in the background. Helping Mum bake was never really about the recipe. It was about standing on a chair, feeling included, and knowing you were trusted enough not to drop eggs on the floor (or at least not every time).
Now, I bake for my own family, and yes, I still lick the spoon. Sometimes Carl walks past and raises an eyebrow, but I tell him it’s essential quality control. Besides, that’s the cook’s tax, isn’t it?
And if you’ve ever handed a beater to a child and watched their eyes light up, you’ll know it’s not just nostalgia. It’s legacy. We pass these moments down, like we pass down our best gravy tips or the secret to a properly golden sausage roll.
Baking has become a bit trendier these days, stand mixers, sourdough starters, and carefully staged Instagram shots. But the heart of it hasn’t changed. It’s still about love. Comfort. Home.
So the next time you’re in the kitchen with a mixing bowl and a wooden spoon, don’t rush the tidy-up. Take a moment. Lick the bowl. Lick the spoon. Give yourself permission to enjoy the process, not just the result.
After all, the cake’s for everyone. But the bowl? That’s yours.