In my former, gluten-eating life, I loved to bake. The feeling of putting ingredients together, knowing just how they'd behave, and eagerly anticipating the end result as it rose in the oven is an unforgettable and addictive feeling. (I should note: it can still be enjoyable when I do it now, when I get it right, but it's honestly more chemistry than cooking...but I digress.)
Even with the ample practice I got baking for friends and family, there would be moments where I'd miss an ingredient. A loaf would be in the oven for a few minutes before I'd realize "I forgot the salt!" or "Did I add baking powder?" or, once, "Wait, I don't remember using sugar..." The end result never felt quite right, no matter how gracious those who tasted the failed product tried to be.