* This post was written at the end of August, and I forgot about it, so it never actually got posted until now. Whoopsie.
I have been trying to get this baking business off the ground for quite some time now, however halfheartedly. I printed up some "business cards" from Dollarama but couldn't figure out how to set the margins properly so they are all misaligned. I placed an add on Kijiji in June and never really followed up on it. Set up a Facebook group, but didn't spend too much time promoting it. You know, try to make things happen in the way that I do. So imagine my surprise when the Kijiji add actually worked.
This woman named Shelly called me on Wednesday and asked me if I could bake 3 dozen cupcakes and 5 dozen sugar cookies for Saturday. She apologized for it being last minute, but her original baker canceled on her. Of course I agreed to do it. My first big job!
I spent hours getting this all ready. Sugar cookies take a long time, what with all the rolling out and decorating with royal icing. Not to mention that it's August and neither Tynna nor I have air conditioning. I went over to Tynna's Thursday after work, and she helped me bake the cookies. Brady helped too. After three hours of sweaty baking, the cookies were done. I went home, baked the cupcakes and felt ahead of the game. Friday night, I spent another three hours decorating the cookies. I felt a little panicked, but they all turned out.
I had to work on Saturday, but Chris was ready for Shelly to come pick the baking up. Poor guy had to wait all day for her to arrive, even though she was supposed to be there around 3 or 4. About five o'clock, I called home. She hadn't come to get them yet. I called her, and she said her daughter was on the way. I get home at six. She hadn't come to get them yet. I called her, no answer.
Many messages were left, many minutes spent reserve-directorying her number, trying to get her address. She's unlisted. She had not paid me yet! For a few days I tried to get ahold of her, but she didn't call back or pick up the phone. I was heartbroken. I felt so taken advantage of. Shame on her. I kept thinking. How could someone do something so cruel? I'm a home-based business. I'm not a grocery store, I can't put all this baking on the reduced rack, I was stuck with it. I brought the cupcakes to a party that night, and they were gobbled up. I brought the cookies to work and the girls ate them. At least they didn't go to waste.
The moral of the story is this: While most people are generally good, there are still a lot of arseholes out there who will do things like this to people. As much as I'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt, chances are she's just a jerk who decided to buy her cupcakes from the grocery store at a cheaper price. Fine and dandy, but it would have been nice if she had called me cancel so I didn't waste three days of my time.
I now know that I always have to ask for a deposit before I even crack an egg. I wish I didn't have to, it would be nice to trust people and believe that they'll pay up, but I learned the hard way that wont always happen.
All well, live and learn.
November 11, 2010
Apparently, I am an Italian Nonna
Bakin' Bread
Yesterday I got to leave work a few hours early and decided to take advantage of a spare afternoon. I've been wanting to try to make bread with my new Kitchenaid mixer (which, by the way, I have named Betty), because why have a heavy-duty piece of kitchen machinery and not try to knead bread with it?
I knew that bread needs to rise, I knew that yeast is what makes it rise. Two things I did not know were: Bread needs about THREE HOURS to rise and yeast smells terrible. Also, when planning to make loaves of bread, it is best to have the adequate number of bread tins that the recipe calls for. I only have one, so the other loaf had to go in a square pan. I was worried that this would completely ruin the three hours I spent waiting for the bread to rise, but thankfully it didn't. The second loaf just looks kind of rustic.
Now, using a mixer takes a lot of the work out of making bread since the machine does the kneading for you. I've never really used a bread machine before, but I am going to assume that even while making the dough with a mixer, it is still more work than doing it in a bread machine. It is also a very messy job, and took me ages to clean up all the bits of dough that were clinging to practically every surface the bread touched.
A very important lesson that I learned while making bread is this: DO NOT TOUCH THE BREAD AFTER ITS SECOND RISE. Hey, I can't help it. I was curious. It had risen so much, I had to see what it felt like.
The bread promptly deflated. It's okay, it was the wonky one in the square pan and it still turned out. The one in the bread tin worked out well, too. They were delicious and my whole apartment smelled like a bakery.
Makin' Supper
As if making homemade bread wasn't ambitious enough, I also decided that last night was the night I was going to make risotto. There's not much story to this, it's just risotto and anyone can make it if they take the time to do it. I just felt like I should have been wearing a headscarf and apron and had some small children underfoot calling me Nonna.
Yesterday I got to leave work a few hours early and decided to take advantage of a spare afternoon. I've been wanting to try to make bread with my new Kitchenaid mixer (which, by the way, I have named Betty), because why have a heavy-duty piece of kitchen machinery and not try to knead bread with it?
I knew that bread needs to rise, I knew that yeast is what makes it rise. Two things I did not know were: Bread needs about THREE HOURS to rise and yeast smells terrible. Also, when planning to make loaves of bread, it is best to have the adequate number of bread tins that the recipe calls for. I only have one, so the other loaf had to go in a square pan. I was worried that this would completely ruin the three hours I spent waiting for the bread to rise, but thankfully it didn't. The second loaf just looks kind of rustic.
Now, using a mixer takes a lot of the work out of making bread since the machine does the kneading for you. I've never really used a bread machine before, but I am going to assume that even while making the dough with a mixer, it is still more work than doing it in a bread machine. It is also a very messy job, and took me ages to clean up all the bits of dough that were clinging to practically every surface the bread touched.
A very important lesson that I learned while making bread is this: DO NOT TOUCH THE BREAD AFTER ITS SECOND RISE. Hey, I can't help it. I was curious. It had risen so much, I had to see what it felt like.
The bread promptly deflated. It's okay, it was the wonky one in the square pan and it still turned out. The one in the bread tin worked out well, too. They were delicious and my whole apartment smelled like a bakery.
Makin' Supper
As if making homemade bread wasn't ambitious enough, I also decided that last night was the night I was going to make risotto. There's not much story to this, it's just risotto and anyone can make it if they take the time to do it. I just felt like I should have been wearing a headscarf and apron and had some small children underfoot calling me Nonna.
October 15, 2010
Tynna's Wedding Cake
I shall just let the pictures speak for themselves. This process was so smooth, so well planned and so well executed that there's little to actually write about.
Except when I told Chris to take great care when he went in the freezer, and he stuck freezer mugs on top of the cakes and squished one. Oh, and when I didn't realize that a chocolate cake needs a gigantic layer of frosting before you put fondant overtop or you can see the brown through the white fondant. Or when I tried to re-use the fondant I took off the chocolate cake, and ripped it and tried to patch it up with squares of fondant and ended up having to do two layers of fondant to cover my messes because I ran out of buttercream. Or when I didn't realize that fondant becomes rock hard in the fridge until it warms up, and as a result had to change my design plan because I couldn't do the quilting effect.
But other than that, piece of cake. Pardon the pun.
P.S. I also made the flowers by hand with gumpaste. I'm quite proud of them.
Except when I told Chris to take great care when he went in the freezer, and he stuck freezer mugs on top of the cakes and squished one. Oh, and when I didn't realize that a chocolate cake needs a gigantic layer of frosting before you put fondant overtop or you can see the brown through the white fondant. Or when I tried to re-use the fondant I took off the chocolate cake, and ripped it and tried to patch it up with squares of fondant and ended up having to do two layers of fondant to cover my messes because I ran out of buttercream. Or when I didn't realize that fondant becomes rock hard in the fridge until it warms up, and as a result had to change my design plan because I couldn't do the quilting effect.
But other than that, piece of cake. Pardon the pun.
P.S. I also made the flowers by hand with gumpaste. I'm quite proud of them.
My (Kitchenaid!) Biggest (Kitchenaid!) Fantasy (Kitchenaid!) Part Two
The day I have been dreaming of has finally arrived. Thanks to the most wonderful Cheryl and Paul Miller, I am now the proud owner of a Kitchenaid stand mixer, with all the fixin's. And it's red! I can honestly say that this has changed my life in the following ways:
1. The red colour makes me feel fancy.
2. The paddle attachment makes mixing so much smoother than beaters.
3. The whisk attachment beats those egg whites into submission.
4. It has a 12 cup capacity bowl and a super high speed motor, so if I feel like whipping up a batch of cupcakes or 20, they're pretty much ready before I even get to the kitchen.
5. The red makes me feel fancy.
1. The red colour makes me feel fancy.
2. The paddle attachment makes mixing so much smoother than beaters.
3. The whisk attachment beats those egg whites into submission.
4. It has a 12 cup capacity bowl and a super high speed motor, so if I feel like whipping up a batch of cupcakes or 20, they're pretty much ready before I even get to the kitchen.
5. The red makes me feel fancy.
July 11, 2010
The Feta Cheese Quest
I have never tried Feta. I'm afraid of it. Brine makes me uncomfortable. However, I do enjoy that is still firm even though it is swimming in, ugh, brine, and when you take it out, it crumbles. It's a fun cheese. I prefer bocconcini, I think it is the cutest of all the cheeses.
Tynna has been searching for the perfect Feta since I moved to London eight months ago. As I mentioned, I know nothing about Feta, but she asked me which kind she should try and I suggested Silani, since it is such a huge, widely stocked brand. Of course, I was wrong. It sat in her fridge for a really long time, unopened, but since it had an expiry date of March 2011, I assumed it would be safe to eat. So I chopped up some tomato, onion, cucumber and pepper for her Greek salad and opened up the Silani Feta cheese container. Ewwwwww! Mush City. It must have been pre-crumbled and since it was swimming in, ugh, brine, it was more like cottage cheese than Feta.
And thus began the quest.
The Search For the Perfect Feta
I was determined to find the Perfect Feta. I knew it had to exist because we used it at Tazzi's Cafe for our Greek salads. I could not remember what brand we used (though now I remember it was Saputo) so I went the European grocery store down the street thinking they could help me. Micaela and I walked over in the 35 degree heat and since there was only one brand of Feta there, in a gigantic yellow tub for $9.99, I asked the scary female grocery clerk what she suggested. She gave me a quick onceover, determined that I was not a swarthy Greek and said in a thick accent:
"Feta, ah I dun't know." We decided to look around anyways, since imported groceries are my favourite kind. We both almost lost our stomachs, however, when we got to the butcher aisle and saw chicken feet.
We moved on to Metro, figuring that we could definitely find the Perfect Feta there. We were spoiled for choice. There were so many varieties. Cow's milk, sheep's milk, goat's milk. Brick, crumbled, cubed. So many varieties, which to choose? I started to feel overwhelmed and considered taking a grocery store poll a la Anna and Kristina's Grocery Bag, but decided to give the deli a shot instead. I wasn't dressed or made-up enough for a poll.
Thankfully, the deli offered three varieties of Feta: classic Greek, light, and Canadian. I asked the large and intimidating counter lady for one block of each kind. While she was packing it up, I felt a little silly for getting such small quantities of cheese and started to explain why I was making such a weird request. I realized that she wasn't listening to me and my voice trailed off. "She doesn't care..." I said part to myself, part to Micaela, and part to the snotty cow behind the counter. She ignored me, of course, but Micaela got a laugh out of it.
The Outcome: Tynna tried each cheese, and the Canadian version won. Quest complete!
Tynna has been searching for the perfect Feta since I moved to London eight months ago. As I mentioned, I know nothing about Feta, but she asked me which kind she should try and I suggested Silani, since it is such a huge, widely stocked brand. Of course, I was wrong. It sat in her fridge for a really long time, unopened, but since it had an expiry date of March 2011, I assumed it would be safe to eat. So I chopped up some tomato, onion, cucumber and pepper for her Greek salad and opened up the Silani Feta cheese container. Ewwwwww! Mush City. It must have been pre-crumbled and since it was swimming in, ugh, brine, it was more like cottage cheese than Feta.
And thus began the quest.
The Search For the Perfect Feta
I was determined to find the Perfect Feta. I knew it had to exist because we used it at Tazzi's Cafe for our Greek salads. I could not remember what brand we used (though now I remember it was Saputo) so I went the European grocery store down the street thinking they could help me. Micaela and I walked over in the 35 degree heat and since there was only one brand of Feta there, in a gigantic yellow tub for $9.99, I asked the scary female grocery clerk what she suggested. She gave me a quick onceover, determined that I was not a swarthy Greek and said in a thick accent:
"Feta, ah I dun't know." We decided to look around anyways, since imported groceries are my favourite kind. We both almost lost our stomachs, however, when we got to the butcher aisle and saw chicken feet.
We moved on to Metro, figuring that we could definitely find the Perfect Feta there. We were spoiled for choice. There were so many varieties. Cow's milk, sheep's milk, goat's milk. Brick, crumbled, cubed. So many varieties, which to choose? I started to feel overwhelmed and considered taking a grocery store poll a la Anna and Kristina's Grocery Bag, but decided to give the deli a shot instead. I wasn't dressed or made-up enough for a poll.
Thankfully, the deli offered three varieties of Feta: classic Greek, light, and Canadian. I asked the large and intimidating counter lady for one block of each kind. While she was packing it up, I felt a little silly for getting such small quantities of cheese and started to explain why I was making such a weird request. I realized that she wasn't listening to me and my voice trailed off. "She doesn't care..." I said part to myself, part to Micaela, and part to the snotty cow behind the counter. She ignored me, of course, but Micaela got a laugh out of it.
The Outcome: Tynna tried each cheese, and the Canadian version won. Quest complete!
July 7, 2010
My (Kitchenaid!) Biggest (Kitchenaid!) Fantasy (Kitchenaid!)
My hand mixer broke the other day, and I am devastated. It only cost $11 at Zellers and I bought it almost 3 years ago, but still. I have the most ill-equipped kitchen in the universe, and the broken hand mixer only makes it worse. In retrospect it probably could have been avoided, but I am The Accidental Martha so of course I would do something stupid to break my mixer. Allow me to explain:
How I Broke My $11 Hand Mixer
Oliver's birthday party is on Saturday and I am making him a Toy Story cake. I made a color-flow design of Buzz and Woody to put on the cake and it turned out awesome (on my third attempt. The first time I used too small of a tip, the second time I didn't flatten my parchment paper enough and Buzz's leg fell off). When I went to mix the Color Flow (Wilton, damn you and your expensive but convenient cake decorating products. Thank goodness for Michael's 40% off coupons), I used my hand mixer not anticipating that the mixture was going to be really, really thick. It was so thick that while I was mixing it, I heard a whirring sound accompanied by the smell of burning plastic. Being me, I ignored it . Moments later, with a loud grinding noise, it died.
RIP you cheap piece of crap.
I know now that I should have used my stand mixer. Now, I say "stand mixer", but take that with a grain of salt. It is a very old, hand-me-down Sunbeam that used to belong to my mom. It vibrates a lot, so as it is mixing things, it begins creeping along to the edge of the table. It needs a vise to hold it down, which I don't have, so I have to hold it with one hand. Essentially, it is a very large and cumbersome hand mixer.
On to my fantasy:
Dear Kitchenaid, I Love You and I Hope You're Reading This
My biggest fantasy is that this blog will become really popular and Kitchenaid will hear about it and send me a lot of free stuff. All I want in the world (almost more than I want babies) is a Kitchenaid stand mixer. I have dreams about it. When I'm using the ol' Sunbeam, sometimes I fantasize about it being a Kitchenaid. A newer, sleeker, fancier stand mixer that does things my stand mixer wont do. Ahhh... Kitchenaid, why must you be so expensive?
How I Broke My $11 Hand Mixer
Oliver's birthday party is on Saturday and I am making him a Toy Story cake. I made a color-flow design of Buzz and Woody to put on the cake and it turned out awesome (on my third attempt. The first time I used too small of a tip, the second time I didn't flatten my parchment paper enough and Buzz's leg fell off). When I went to mix the Color Flow (Wilton, damn you and your expensive but convenient cake decorating products. Thank goodness for Michael's 40% off coupons), I used my hand mixer not anticipating that the mixture was going to be really, really thick. It was so thick that while I was mixing it, I heard a whirring sound accompanied by the smell of burning plastic. Being me, I ignored it . Moments later, with a loud grinding noise, it died.
RIP you cheap piece of crap.
I know now that I should have used my stand mixer. Now, I say "stand mixer", but take that with a grain of salt. It is a very old, hand-me-down Sunbeam that used to belong to my mom. It vibrates a lot, so as it is mixing things, it begins creeping along to the edge of the table. It needs a vise to hold it down, which I don't have, so I have to hold it with one hand. Essentially, it is a very large and cumbersome hand mixer.
On to my fantasy:
Dear Kitchenaid, I Love You and I Hope You're Reading This
My biggest fantasy is that this blog will become really popular and Kitchenaid will hear about it and send me a lot of free stuff. All I want in the world (almost more than I want babies) is a Kitchenaid stand mixer. I have dreams about it. When I'm using the ol' Sunbeam, sometimes I fantasize about it being a Kitchenaid. A newer, sleeker, fancier stand mixer that does things my stand mixer wont do. Ahhh... Kitchenaid, why must you be so expensive?
July 4, 2010
How I Made Macarons My Bitch
I do not know why the internet is full of blogs and websites dedicated to the art of baking macarons.cookies for goodness sake. Yes, they are fancy little French cookies. Yes, they take some time and skill to master. But they are not the be-all and end-all of the baking world. They are just cookies, not something to be afraid of.
I decided to give these pretentious drops of French heaven a shot. I fully and thoroughly researched the technique of baking them and bought the proper ingredients. I even left the egg whites out for 24 hours, just like they said (ewwwww). I meringue-d my egg whites, I folded them in delicately, I actually followed the directions. I drew one-inch circles on parchment and piped the dough (mixture? batter?) correctly. They looked just like the pictures (mostly, I'm new at piping meringue. It is not the same as frosting).
I put them in the oven. This is where things started to go wrong. I watched them very closely, just like I was told. I was delighted when I watched the little "feet" begin to form. Then I figured that since they were doing okay, I could step away from the oven for a minute or two.
A word of advice: never walk away from the oven when you are baking macarons!!
There is about a 5 second window between perfectly cooked and burnt to a crisp.
Luckily, I learned my lesson the first time around. I made another batch, and they turned out perfectly. I would just like to say that le macaron is not as hard as they would have you believe.
I decided to give these pretentious drops of French heaven a shot. I fully and thoroughly researched the technique of baking them and bought the proper ingredients. I even left the egg whites out for 24 hours, just like they said (ewwwww). I meringue-d my egg whites, I folded them in delicately, I actually followed the directions. I drew one-inch circles on parchment and piped the dough (mixture? batter?) correctly. They looked just like the pictures (mostly, I'm new at piping meringue. It is not the same as frosting).
I put them in the oven. This is where things started to go wrong. I watched them very closely, just like I was told. I was delighted when I watched the little "feet" begin to form. Then I figured that since they were doing okay, I could step away from the oven for a minute or two.
A word of advice: never walk away from the oven when you are baking macarons!!
There is about a 5 second window between perfectly cooked and burnt to a crisp.
Luckily, I learned my lesson the first time around. I made another batch, and they turned out perfectly. I would just like to say that le macaron is not as hard as they would have you believe.
Why You Shouldn't Let Me Use a Quilting Rotary Blade
I got married nearly two years ago, and it was a complete DIY wedding. It was beautiful, and fun and really inexpensive because we did everything ourselves. I scored my Alfred Sung dress for $300 because it was a discontinued style. I had the reception at a restaurant instead of a hall, so I saved thousands. I actually made money off the ceremony because the minister was going senile and kept missing appointments and showed up 45 minutes late for the rehearsal and gave us $60 in total for the inconvenience. My mom is a floral designer, so she did my flowers as a gift to me. It was an amazing wedding done for way under $10 000.
Part of DIY weddings is doing it yourself. My mom came up with the awesome idea of making a "cake" out of three hatboxes and using it to hold cards. We bought this beautiful taupe/gold fabric on clearance from Wal-Mart, and some brown satin ribbon and used some leftover silk flowers from my bouquet. The idea was to cut the bottoms out of the top two tiers, cut a slit in the top, glue the tiers together, cover it in fabric and use the ribbon to hide the join. How could you possibly screw that up? Well, bear in mind that it's me.
Everything was going according to plan (I had actually made a plan this time). The bottoms were cut out and I was ready to cut the fabric to size. I thought that if I used a rotary blade for quilting that it would be quicker and look a lot better than cutting the fabric by hand. What I failed to factor in was how sharp rotary blades are. I did alright with the first couple of panels, and then the old carelessness kicked in. Whoop, rotary blade right across the thumb. And not just the thumb, but the thumbnail. Imagine, if you will, the amount of pressure one must apply in order to cut a fingernail open. It hurt like the dickens and bled like crazy. Thankfully I am no stranger to craft-induced injury, so I wrapped some toilet paper around it and went on with my crafting. I finished the card cake and it looked beautiful, but my finger didn't heal in time for the wedding. Thank goodness for nail polish. (It was also too cold outside for the spray glue that I used to adhere the fabric to the boxes. So I did it inside. Without opening the window. And I got glue all over the floor because I didn't lay any paper down, but whatever.)
I bet Martha would know to keep her fingers out of the way when using a rotary blade.
Part of DIY weddings is doing it yourself. My mom came up with the awesome idea of making a "cake" out of three hatboxes and using it to hold cards. We bought this beautiful taupe/gold fabric on clearance from Wal-Mart, and some brown satin ribbon and used some leftover silk flowers from my bouquet. The idea was to cut the bottoms out of the top two tiers, cut a slit in the top, glue the tiers together, cover it in fabric and use the ribbon to hide the join. How could you possibly screw that up? Well, bear in mind that it's me.
Everything was going according to plan (I had actually made a plan this time). The bottoms were cut out and I was ready to cut the fabric to size. I thought that if I used a rotary blade for quilting that it would be quicker and look a lot better than cutting the fabric by hand. What I failed to factor in was how sharp rotary blades are. I did alright with the first couple of panels, and then the old carelessness kicked in. Whoop, rotary blade right across the thumb. And not just the thumb, but the thumbnail. Imagine, if you will, the amount of pressure one must apply in order to cut a fingernail open. It hurt like the dickens and bled like crazy. Thankfully I am no stranger to craft-induced injury, so I wrapped some toilet paper around it and went on with my crafting. I finished the card cake and it looked beautiful, but my finger didn't heal in time for the wedding. Thank goodness for nail polish. (It was also too cold outside for the spray glue that I used to adhere the fabric to the boxes. So I did it inside. Without opening the window. And I got glue all over the floor because I didn't lay any paper down, but whatever.)
I bet Martha would know to keep her fingers out of the way when using a rotary blade.
July 3, 2010
The Science of Baking
Until very recently, I could not bake to save my life. Cakes always turned out too dense, meringue never meringue-ed, cookies burned. I would leave a trail of devastation in my wake. Mom and Mr. Town told me that I could do it, that cooking was nothing to be scared of, but I didn't believe them. One day I decided to just go for it, and slowly started learning the tricks of the trade. I love the internet for this reason. Anything you want to know is readily available. I learned how to decorate cakes and make Wilton roses from YouTube. I mastered macarons from other peoples' blogs (more on that another day). Not that I didn't make many, many, many mistakes along the way, but eventually things began to click.
I love that the basic ingredients for almost anything you make are eggs, sugar and butter. Depending on the ratio of ingredients and the techniques you use to mix them together, all kinds of amazing things happen. The day I made lemon tarts, I was astounded by the fact that cooking egg whites, sugar and lemon juice together starts out liquid and turns into a solid. Well, solid-ish. I don't understand why things work they way they do, but I love trying things out and discovering what will happen.
I made my own Dulce De Leche as a filling for my macarons from a recipe I found in a magazine a billion years ago. If you put a can of sweetened condensed milk in a pot of simmering water for a few hours, it turns into the most delicious caramel. How? Why does whipping cream turn into whipped cream if you mix it with a little sugar and beat it for awhile? How do egg whites go from liquid, to foam, to thick enough to not fall out of the bowl if you turn it over your head? Baking is this most amazing thing that's happened to me. (Hobby-wise, no offense to my hubby)
I love that the basic ingredients for almost anything you make are eggs, sugar and butter. Depending on the ratio of ingredients and the techniques you use to mix them together, all kinds of amazing things happen. The day I made lemon tarts, I was astounded by the fact that cooking egg whites, sugar and lemon juice together starts out liquid and turns into a solid. Well, solid-ish. I don't understand why things work they way they do, but I love trying things out and discovering what will happen.
I made my own Dulce De Leche as a filling for my macarons from a recipe I found in a magazine a billion years ago. If you put a can of sweetened condensed milk in a pot of simmering water for a few hours, it turns into the most delicious caramel. How? Why does whipping cream turn into whipped cream if you mix it with a little sugar and beat it for awhile? How do egg whites go from liquid, to foam, to thick enough to not fall out of the bowl if you turn it over your head? Baking is this most amazing thing that's happened to me. (Hobby-wise, no offense to my hubby)
One Excellent Thing, One Bonehead Thing
As much as I would love to blame my lack of grace under pressure on outside factors, the reality is that every bonehead thing I do is a direct result of my carelessness. I was beginning to think that I had finally gotten things under control, that I could work my way around a kitchen without causing any fatalities. Ha, yeah right.
Last week I was incredibly productive, managing to make lemon tarts and a quiche in one afternoon, with no trouble. I have never made lemon tarts before, since I don't really care for lemon, but figured that I need to add more treats to my repertoire. The lemon curd turned out perfectly, on my very first try. I only got one tiny eggshell in the mixture, which I managed to spoon out. My pastry was a little puffy, since I did not realize that you really have to puncture the bottoms when you bake them without any filling. Aside from that, they were excellent. And the quiche, well, it was heavenly.
Anyways, since that turned out well, I thought that my days of bumbling about and ruining things were over. My stepbrother's son's birthday is coming up, and I am making his birthday cake. I want to use marshmallow fluff for the filling, so the other day I decided to make some homemade fluff and fill some chocolate cupcakes with it. And I had a craving for chocolate cream cheese frosting, so I made some of that too.
The Excellent Thing:
I found a recipe online for homemade marshmallow fluff and I had no idea how simple it was! Egg whites, sugar, vanilla and a little water. Beat over a bain Marie until fluffy and voila! Easy peasy. The chocolate cream cheese frosting was flawless as well. Cream cheese, butter, icing sugar, vanilla and chocolate. I didn't have any chocolate squares left, so I used Hersey's cocoa powder instead. It didn't give it the same richness that the baking chocolate would have given it, but it was still delicious. (I didn't feel like making the cupcakes from scratch, so I just used a mix. When I bake the cake, I'll make it the real thing.)
The cupcakes baked perfectly, the frosting was sweet and rich and the marshmallow fluff was gooey and delicious. My sister, Tynna, helped me scoop out the centers of the cupcakes, and inject the marshmallow fluff inside. I also taught her how to frost them. We called them "our" cupcakes. They were gorgeous and tasty and not one thing went wrong. Yay for me!
The Bonehead Thing:
Cleaning my kitchen is always a chore. I have eczema on my hands and no dishwasher, so washing the dishes is a literal pain. I tend to put it off as long as possible, but then things pile up and it's even more of a nightmare. Ugh. Long story short, I did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, but while I was doing so I put the George Foreman in the oven to get it out of my way. The rule in our house is whoever uses the Foreman cleans the Foreman, and my husband made hamburgers on it. I finished my cleaning and completely forgot the Foreman.
I preheated my oven to bake the cupcakes and forgot that it was still inside. About 20 minutes later, just as I was about to put the tins in the oven, I remembered what was already inside. In a panic, I grabbed my oven mitts and yanked the Foreman out of the oven. If only I would have remembered that the grease tray was resting on top, and full of hamburger grease. It tipped over onto the burner and the whole oven burst into flames.
I wish I could explain in a way that you could really understand exactly how much fire came out of the oven. A wall of flame shot up and out, with me standing directly in front of it. It was an inferno. It was the mouth of Hell. It was the grease fire to end all grease fires. And if that wasn't stupid enough, instead of closing the door to contain the fire, I stood there and started screaming. Not just a little startled scream, but full-out, movie quality screams. Many of them. My husband was standing right beside me, and all he did was jump out of the way.
Eventually, the fire burned itself out. Thank goodness, because I was just about to throw water on it. Yup. Even though I know that you NEVER EVER throw water on a grease fire, in my panic I nearly did.
I bet Martha never set her kitchen on fire. And if she did, I'm sure she had a fire extinguisher on hand.
Last week I was incredibly productive, managing to make lemon tarts and a quiche in one afternoon, with no trouble. I have never made lemon tarts before, since I don't really care for lemon, but figured that I need to add more treats to my repertoire. The lemon curd turned out perfectly, on my very first try. I only got one tiny eggshell in the mixture, which I managed to spoon out. My pastry was a little puffy, since I did not realize that you really have to puncture the bottoms when you bake them without any filling. Aside from that, they were excellent. And the quiche, well, it was heavenly.
Anyways, since that turned out well, I thought that my days of bumbling about and ruining things were over. My stepbrother's son's birthday is coming up, and I am making his birthday cake. I want to use marshmallow fluff for the filling, so the other day I decided to make some homemade fluff and fill some chocolate cupcakes with it. And I had a craving for chocolate cream cheese frosting, so I made some of that too.
The Excellent Thing:
I found a recipe online for homemade marshmallow fluff and I had no idea how simple it was! Egg whites, sugar, vanilla and a little water. Beat over a bain Marie until fluffy and voila! Easy peasy. The chocolate cream cheese frosting was flawless as well. Cream cheese, butter, icing sugar, vanilla and chocolate. I didn't have any chocolate squares left, so I used Hersey's cocoa powder instead. It didn't give it the same richness that the baking chocolate would have given it, but it was still delicious. (I didn't feel like making the cupcakes from scratch, so I just used a mix. When I bake the cake, I'll make it the real thing.)
The cupcakes baked perfectly, the frosting was sweet and rich and the marshmallow fluff was gooey and delicious. My sister, Tynna, helped me scoop out the centers of the cupcakes, and inject the marshmallow fluff inside. I also taught her how to frost them. We called them "our" cupcakes. They were gorgeous and tasty and not one thing went wrong. Yay for me!
The Bonehead Thing:
Cleaning my kitchen is always a chore. I have eczema on my hands and no dishwasher, so washing the dishes is a literal pain. I tend to put it off as long as possible, but then things pile up and it's even more of a nightmare. Ugh. Long story short, I did the dishes and cleaned the kitchen, but while I was doing so I put the George Foreman in the oven to get it out of my way. The rule in our house is whoever uses the Foreman cleans the Foreman, and my husband made hamburgers on it. I finished my cleaning and completely forgot the Foreman.
I preheated my oven to bake the cupcakes and forgot that it was still inside. About 20 minutes later, just as I was about to put the tins in the oven, I remembered what was already inside. In a panic, I grabbed my oven mitts and yanked the Foreman out of the oven. If only I would have remembered that the grease tray was resting on top, and full of hamburger grease. It tipped over onto the burner and the whole oven burst into flames.
I wish I could explain in a way that you could really understand exactly how much fire came out of the oven. A wall of flame shot up and out, with me standing directly in front of it. It was an inferno. It was the mouth of Hell. It was the grease fire to end all grease fires. And if that wasn't stupid enough, instead of closing the door to contain the fire, I stood there and started screaming. Not just a little startled scream, but full-out, movie quality screams. Many of them. My husband was standing right beside me, and all he did was jump out of the way.
Eventually, the fire burned itself out. Thank goodness, because I was just about to throw water on it. Yup. Even though I know that you NEVER EVER throw water on a grease fire, in my panic I nearly did.
I bet Martha never set her kitchen on fire. And if she did, I'm sure she had a fire extinguisher on hand.
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