Baking Riddles for Sweet Chefs

I mix batter smooth with spin after spin. Plug me in and I'll quickly begin.

I'm a powdery puff that makes dough climb. Add me to rise right on time.

I tick down the minutes till treats are done. When I ding, the goodies have won. What am I?

I'm a padded glove that shields hands from heat. Slip me on before grabbing a treat. What am I?

I'm a pan with cups in a dozen array. Fill me with batter for a frosted display.

I'm a sugar artist swirling white peaks. Toast me golden, perfection speaks.

I'm a hefty stick kept cold and neat. Melt me slowly for flaky feats.

I'm a sieve full of holes fine and neat. Shake me gently to light up the wheat.

I'm a wooden stirrer with a long handle and a rounded bowl. Move me through batter and I never scratch the bowl. What am I?

I'm the sweet smell filling the room. Open the door to taste the plume.

I print out shapes both simple and grand. Press me in dough with a steady hand.

I'm a sugar sprinkle rainbow bright. Drop me on icing for colorful sight.

I'm a sliver of wood poked in to check the bake. If I come out clean, the cake will make. What am I?

I'm a grid of wires letting air flow. Rest your treats on me to cool down slow. What am I?

I'm a recipe's guide with measured delight. Follow my steps and the dessert turns out right.

I'm a brown bottle of sweet-smelling liquid steeped from orchid pods, a splash in every batter. What am I?

I roll over dough to flatten it for pies and cookies. What am I?

We're dropped into cookie dough by the handful and melt into gooey pockets. What are we?

I wake up in warm water and make bread rise. What am I?

I'm marked with lines for fractions and ounces so a recipe comes out right. What am I?

I'm preheated to three-fifty before the tray goes in. What am I?

I'm piped in sweet, fluffy swirls on top of a birthday cake. What am I?

I'm the flaky golden shell around the filling, crimped along the edge with a fork. What am I?

I'm a tiny edible home glued together with icing at holiday time. What am I?

I'm tied around your waist to keep flour off your clothes. What am I?

I peek through the oven window to check how the dough is rising. Who am I?

I'm a pinch that balances sweetness in every recipe. What am I?

I'm golden and slow, drizzled warm over biscuits, and made by bees. What am I?

I'm the brown, spicy ribbon swirled inside a fresh morning roll. What am I?

I am the proud smile when the first batch comes out perfect. What am I?