“The ice-cream was passed around with cake–gold and silver cake arranged on platters in alternate slices; it had been made and frozen during the afternoon back of the kitchen by two black women, under the supervision of Victor. It was pronounced a great success–excellent if it had only contained a little less vanilla or a little more sugar, if it had been frozen a degree harder, and if the salt might have been kept out of portions of it.”
- Kate Chopin, The Awakening (1899)
Kate Chopin’s The Awakening chronicles Edna Pontellier’s struggle to understand and conform to idealized notions of femininity, sexuality, and motherhood in the American South at the turn of the century. Edna’s discontent with her pampered life peaks during a summer vacation on Grand Isle 
(a small island off of the Louisiana coastline), culminating in an affair and the abandonment of her family. Chopin’s novel was thoroughly condemned following its publication: critics denounced it as vulgar and immoral, a disappointing new work from a well-established and respected writer. Well versed in praise for the Chopin’s descriptive language, vibrant characters, and realistic depiction of the
Creole community, critics were shocked by Edna’s illicit behavior and subsequent suicide and appalled by Chopin’s failure to condemn her protagonist’s infidelity and social dissent.
I know, I know: vanilla rich chocolate chip cookies hardly qualify as haute cuisine. It is, however, the Most Wonderful Time of the Year (i.e. the end of the fall semester) and I’ve found that nothing expresses my appreciation for the efforts of the first year writing students I work with quite like a batch of homemade cookies. These cookies–made with four whole teaspoons of vanilla!–didn’t disappoint: between my students, officemates, and husband, I wasn’t given much of a chance to test their shelf life. I substituted chocolate chunks for the chips called for and refrigerated the dough overnight before baking (a trick I picked up from the New York Times version of Jacques Torres’ infamous cookies), but otherwise followed the recipe exactly.
I’ve brought treats to my classes on the last day of the semester since I first began teaching five years ago: it seems like such a small, harmless gesture of my appreciation. However, the topic of bringing baked goods to students served as a point of controversy when it came up in conversation during a weekend outing with some of my colleagues a few months ago. The discussion had turned to the experience of women vs. men 
in academia: it was suggested, without much contest, that women in academia–both as students and as educators–often work twice as hard to earn the same amount of respect as their male counterparts. One of the most obvious manifestations of this double standard, we all agreed, occurs in our classrooms; every educator at the table could name at least one student in each of their courses who clearly struggled with taking direction from, and giving respect to, a smart, confident female. Students complain to, commiserate with, and confide in female instructors in ways many of our male colleagues rarely experience. The actions that perpetuate these differences in treatment, however, were up for debate: “there’s no doubt that the dynamics are different and, for many reasons, that’s not fair,” said a male colleague, gently setting his drink on the table, “but I’ve also never brought my students a plate of cupcakes.”
I have to admit, he may have a point: I’ve been known to complain about students who treat me more like their mother than their instructor, and yet I bring them fresh baked cookies, a very personal and genuine token of affection that is often construed as
“maternal.” In a similar vein, concerned friends and mentors have told me that the nature (i.e. the fact that I write for a popular audience rather than an academic one) and subject matter (food and literature studies are generally considered “scholarship-lite”) of Novelbite may compromise my reputation as a serious academic. Every time I bake and blog, these conversations enter my mind, although it has yet to stop me from doing either. When I bake for students, it’s my small way of letting them know how much I enjoy and appreciate their contribution – as writers and as really neat people – to the class. When I blog for Novelbite, it’s my small way of writing for and sharing my interests with an audience that extends beyond the VERY small circle of people who read my scholarly work.
At any rate, blogging and baked goods provide a tiny bit of respite from a world that keeps calling for a little less vanilla, a little more sugar, a little less salt, and….
I find the discussion of respect in academia (both in terms of gender and in terms of doing Serious Scholarly Work) so super interesting, but also so very, very frustrating. The gender stuff has been discussed by people much more articulate and well-versed than I am, plus as someone who bakes cookies for her classes and hopes that does not cancel out students’ respect, my perspective is biased. BUT, re: having a reputation as a Serious Academic compromised, oh oh oh do I have opinions. There’s something so fusty and airless about that perspective, a false debate between Real/Valid/Worthy versus Frivolous/Dismissable (not a real word, but it should be)/Unworthy. Long way of saying keep on keeping on…I love this blog and your perspective, which seems to me to equally value playfulness and literature (and food!). Also, I’m totally making those cookies for my class this week.
Thanks for your comments, Rose. I really appreciate the encouragement, too; I should say that for every sneer and scoff I’ve received with regards to NB, I’ve gotten four nods of encouragement in its place (including from my own chair, whose general manta is pretty much, as you put it, “keep on keeping on”). I think the “serious academic thing” and the gender issues intersect in my case: the concept of cooking itself is so gendered (largely with the feminine, although, at a professional level, the male/female chef ratio is still very disproportionate), an association that I believe contributes to it being considered “scholarship-lite.” I’ve talked to scholars who work with issues like fashion and domestic space in literature who’ve felt similarly maligned (although, I do think the air is changing these days, especially as more people are seeing the Ivory Tower as a bit too… well, ivory).
Hooray for cookie making! These really are pretty tasty: kind of an amped-up version of the Back of the Bag chocolate chip cookies. Let me know how they turn out for you!
I’ve had that conversation many times (perchance we’re talking to the same male academic?), because I also bake for my students. I think it’s an easy, simple gesture to say “Thanks.” Besides, everyone loves cookies.
Haha – coincidence, huh?! I hope he doesn’t come off as the villain here: the point was pertinent to the conversation and (at least in this case) more thought-provoking than belittling.
But, like I said, while it made me think twice, it certainly didn’t stop me. Who doesn’t love an excuse to eat.. err, make… cookies?!
I wish I’d found this recipe last night. I yet again attempted chocolate chip cookies and had the recipe not quite measure up.
Robin, have you ever tried refrigerating your dough? No matter what recipe you use, it firms up the dough and makes the cookies less likely to spread and more likely to give you that chewy center/ crispy edge effect. If you try this recipe some time, let me know what you think!
Your cookies look perfect! I was adjunct faculty at Pima CC, and I baked for my students too. Now, I bake for the Polish bar tenders at Friday’s, and I have them convinced American women are all amazing bakers.
When my daughter was a GTA in Orlando, one of the professors treated his assistants to a round of golf at his country club. She held her own with the boys (her dad’s a golf pro), but as more of a geek than a jock, I think she would have appreciated a plate of cookies more.
Happy end of semester!
Thank you, Lois: I’m ready for a break. I love that you bake for the bartenders! I’m sure that you’ve made up for any cookies your daughter missed out on, too: she’s lucky to have such a talented cook and baker in her family.
I’ve actually had a number of professors host end of semester parties and dinner gatherings for their graduate students: I hadn’t thought of that parallel! It has also crossed my mind that maybe some of my male colleagues don’t bake for their students because they don’t know how (or, that they have good reason to be invested in maintaining gender roles – i.e. that men don’t belong in the kitchen – because of the traditional privilege those roles have afforded). Thanks for keeping my wheels turning…