I say this because winter is upon us and my desire for sweet things has risen faster than Sydney house prices lately.

Nutritionists suggests this is probably due to dehydration the result of having the heater on too long during winter.

But what would nutritionists know.

There's just something too easy about baking stuff and then sitting down with a cuppa and making a pig of yourself.

You know it's wrong but like a houseful of St George NRL players breaching Covid lockdown, you do it anyhow.

This became clear the other day, leafing through a recipe book.

I was searching for "Cauliflower Soup" in order to make a sober nourishing broth to withstand the frosts of July.

Instead I lingered on the page that had "Chocolate Chip Cookies" and my heart warmed. Or maybe it was my stomach.

Chocolate Chip Cookies, I thought.

So easy to bake, so easy to gorge, so much butter and sugar to digest.

But who thinks about that when you're dunking like a metronome?

Baking has that ability to elevate the narrative, you see.

It's called "deluding yourself" and my mind was set. Soon the cookie dough would follow.

Besides, chocolate chip cookies weren't invented because they make health sense.

They were created because they're so bad, they're really, really good.

Again, baking has that power to transform - in this case, catastrophic health implications into a compelling morality play.

We start in the Garden of Eden and end up in the kitchen with the oven pre-heated to 180 degrees.

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It makes no sense but people without self control don't need sense. They need cookies.

Besides, baking is one of the highest forms of love, and to love others, you must first love yourself.

That love seem be a little tough at first, particularly on the arteries, when you deconstruct the ingredients.

Rarely, for example, will you go to the pantry and eat a cup of sugar, willingly. Or charge to the fridge to knock back 250g of butter. Or back to the pantry to tear into a packet of chocolate chips?

(Well, it's possible the chocolate chips will get a nudge when the urge is on.)

But once synthesised into the finished cookie form, a miracle occurs and it's possible people may get hurt in the rush.

Rarely will the cookies last to that mythical rainy day when supposedly things are set aside. Because when you go there, the cupboard is usually bare

Same deal with caramel slice, sticky bickie and fudge brownies actually.

It's that magic of baking again. It makes things disappear, down your throat.

And if if feels good, do it - then quease a bit, possibly due to baking powder or guilt.

Then vow, just one more cookie and you'll put them away. If there's any left.

Oh dark lord, I surrendered. Again.