By David M., ’30
An authoritative voice bellows my name in the crowded school cafeteria: “MATZ!” My freshman year track coach advances towards me, each stride squashing surrounding chatter and closing the distance between us. I know exactly what awaits me.
“Remember,” he says, standing in front of me with eyes fixed on mine, “the lemon squares.” He adds with a grin, “And could you put a smiley face on top?”
Wanting his birthday treat to be memorable, I make a note to pick up raspberry jam for drawing the image.
I am known as “The Baker” by countless teachers and peers. Throughout high school, I have shared hundreds of my homemade delights for special days and ordinary days, individuals and groups, and friends and strangers. Baking is incredibly meaningful to me as a way to strengthen my relationships with myself, others, and cultures around the world.
In the kitchen, I transform from student into both chemical engineer and principal investigator. Each creation involves a dance of chemistry on a macro and micro scale; I pour in a bit of extra flour and knead, knowing it will strengthen the dough, and I ponder the reactions that will caramelize its sugars. Following recipes suffices, for it allows me to practice technique. It is winter, so I am making a classic: sugar cookies. I want my cookies to be homogenous, so I beat the butter and sugar vigorously. But my curiosity often takes over. An enthusiast of using creativity, innovation, and sugar in equal parts, I decide to close the recipe book. I form the dough into large, rectangular sheets and do some trigonometry in my head to determine their measurements. Once the cookies emerge from the oven, I arrange them meticulously into a 3D structure using icing as glue. After adding Hershey’s chocolate bar windows and powdered sugar snow, the sugar cookie house is complete and sure to wow at the school holiday bake-off!
However, not all my experiments turn out this way. I chuckle as I recall failed explorations of yore: granulated sugar icing that tasted like sand and improperly leavened sourdough that required a saw to slice. Successful or not, each hour spent as a scientist provides fun and new knowledge.
From my experience, I can ascertain that there is a strong, positive correlation between the promise of a baked surprise and club meeting attendance. Thus, after removing cornbread from the oven, I note on the agenda for tomorrow’s Tri-M Music Honor Society meeting: “Treats!” However, my baking is far from over. I find a clean whisk and start on a second batch, although this time, it is vegan. Butter and oil trade places. Eggs give way to their flaxy brethren. The batch is smaller—I know my dietary demographics—but rich in care. Though not fortune cookies, I intend for each sweet to contain a message: Welcome. Join us. I made these for you.
In every mixing bowl lies a ticket to faraway lands. Seizing this opportunity, a friend and I chart a voyage around the globe. We first travel two thousand miles to Mexico where he shows me how to make polvorones, a traditional cookie served during weddings and holidays. Feeling inspired, I fly us across the Atlantic Ocean to Israel. There, I teach him how to braid babka, forming beautiful, overlapping connections between lengths of dough and between my Jewish heritage and me. When ready to return home, we simply leave the kitchen.
I knock on the classroom door, my smile mirroring the one made of jam on the lemony surprise I hold in my hands. My former track coach invites me in, grabbing a couple of chairs and happily accepting his birthday gift. Even sweeter than the lemon squares is the opportunity they provide; together, we reminisce about the past and discuss future plans, catching up after all this time.
The secret ingredient in each baked good I make is connection.
Admissions Committee Comments
David’s essay uses the lens of baking to highlight his commitment to excellence, community-building, and a solutions-oriented mindset. This essay is strong because it shows the admissions committee how David incorporates his passion into his extracurricular activities and connects with others.
David discusses what it looks like for him to try something new by abandoning a recipe and turning to his own sense of innovation to make the perfect dessert to share with his team. By connecting both the art and science of baking with his personal life, activities, and core values, David’s essay paints a picture of what’s important to him. This allowed us to envision him as a key member of our campus community.
David M.“The most important piece of advice I have for those working on this kind of essay is to be vulnerable and authentic. If you like making jokes, let it show. If there’s something really niche that is important to you, be sure to talk about it. Be personal with anecdotes and a strong sense of voice and show the admissions committee who you really are rather than trying to conform to what you think they want. This will not only make you stand out more but also ensure that the place you end up at truly aligns with your interests.”
