Sunday, February 3, 2013

i'm a baketress.

You know how a female host is a hostess?  Well I've decided a female baker is a baketress.  And I'll tell you what, this girl right here is a baketress, no doubt about it.

So basically I'm really good at baking things.  Like, really good.  And by really good, I suppose I mean actually pretty crummy--or should I say crumb-y?? (no pun intended, except actually that pun was entirely intended).  So here's the story:

My roommate Danielle is a fantastic cook.  Like, hands down, no questions asked, really good at cooking.  Not a joke.  She makes us dinner every day and it is always one million delightful.  Just this last week we had Cordon Bleu, Tagliarini Primavera, and Sweet and Sour Pork.  I mean, not only do those all sound really fancy and delicious, they actually ARE really fancy and delicious.

So as you might expect, sometimes I feel like I under-contribute around here.  I mean, sure.  I come home from school, I do a little homework (seriously only a little--7.5 credits is kiiiind of amazing, you guys) and then I usually just sit there.  Maybe a little nap (quite likely), maybe do some laundry (lies), maybe clean my room (yeah right), or maybe do the dishes (actually, I really do do that one).  Sometimes I get crazy and help Danielle make dinner even though I'm pretty sure she's stunted my cooking abilities.  Seriously, though. Sometimes I'm helping and she asks me to do something and then I have to ask like five questions on how to do it because I just don't want to mess up even though usually she just has me cut vegatables and I know how to do that, it's just that I panic sometimes! I freeze up and I'm like, do I use a knife to cut this zucchini? should I be cutting the carrots thinner? do we eat this part of the asparagus?  I mean, seriously, I know how to cut vegetables.  It's just that she's so good and I'm so intimidated by her skills that I stuh-ruggle.  Also, serious comment: I'm slow at cutting vegetables.  Not a freaking joke, people.  Id even k why, but I'm just slow.  Ew, where was I going with this paragraph?  Oh, right.  I'm an under-contributor.

So yeah, the other day I was like, I feel domestic!  I'm going to make some cookies!  They are going to be delicious and everyone will once again remember that I am just as talented as Danielle!  And so I baked.  I whipped up some D to the licious cookie dough and rolled them into perfect little balls and then baked them.  And they were wonderful.  I mean, I've made some good cookies in my day, but these were chocolate and peanut butter and pretzel and amazing and they were just wild.  Anyway, they were good.  I baked a few batches of them and then I went to one of our ward intramural games and then I came home and decided to put the last batch in the oven.

I baked those cookies 50 minutes to perfection.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen. 50 MINUTES. I was like, I'll just put them in the oven and go brush me teeth and wash my face and stuff and then I'll come back and pull them out, nbd easy style.  Except then I forgot about them.  I really did brush my teeth and wash my face, but then I went into my room, closed the door, changed into my pajamas, looked at some stuff on my computer and then I got in bed and stuff and was lying down with the lights off and I was just starting to doze off when I was like, it smells weird. What is that smell?  I mean, I know our apartment always has kind of a weird smell, but OH MY GOSH, THE COOKIES. I jumped out of bed and ran into the kitchen and pulled those bad boys out of the slightly smoking oven.  Such a proud moment.

Yum. Those are supposed to be normal chocolate chip cookie color.

I still can't believe I left them in for that long.  Truly embarrassing.  Our apartment smelled like a burnt cookie for dayzzz, not a joke.  That night I woke up in the middle of the night and I could just smell burnt cookie and it was awful.  Then when I woke up in the morning I started gagging because the smell was still so strong...but then again, the whole gagging thing is not that unusual for me because I LITERALLY have the world's weakest stomach.  Anyway, I had to open the windows because it was so strong and mind you, this was 6 in the morning when it was like 1 degree outside.  But I'm telling you, it had to be done.

Anyway, I'm sure you've figured it out by now, but what I guess I'm trying to say and what I suppose is the moral of the story is that if you ever need someone to bake you cookies, I'll totes try, but you should probably ask Danielle or at least have her hold my hand through the entire process.  Plus, I mean, come on.  You can just tell she's a talented baker just by looking at her, am I right?

1 comment:

Michaelanne said...

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