« Strange Bedfellows | Main | Whatever »

Baking's Not My Bag, Baby
September 19, 2004

So, I baked.


Two 9x13 pans of peanut butter crispy bar thingies (I don't know the right name); 4 dozen chocolate cookies with peanut butter chips; and 3 dozen oatmeal cookies with butterscotch chips later, and The Husband is lying in a sugar-induced coma in The Big Man's Chair, complete with a tiny string of chocolate colored drool on his chin.

I will download pictures of my treasures and post the recipes later, after I am done cleaning The Great Closet Throwdown of '04.


Anyway.


As I was baking yesterday, I was looking over the tools of my trade and was trying to pick my most favorite item. Love the Kitchen-Aid, of course. But what I love the most are my Silpat baking liners.

These are invaulable little gems and as far as I am concerned, everyone should have at least 2 in their kitchen. Their non-stick abilities are amazing. The clean up like a dream. And no amount of turture will ever ruin them.

How do I know this?


Cut to about, oh, 4 or so years ago when I was prepping for a big trick. I had set to the task of making approximately 350 small choux pastry shells. And in my then arrogance and stupidity, I assumed starting this task at 10:00 p.m. would be absolutely no problem.

The last pan went into the oven at approximately 2:00 a.m. and I was so relieved to be in the home stretch that I stupidly sat down on my couch - the place where all creatures are drawn into near comatose sleep patterns - to get a small respite from my evening's workings.

Approximately 1 hour and 20 minutes later, the smoke alarm woke me up and I startled awake to find myself surrounded by billowing, lung paralyzing smoke.

"Damn. The pastry shells."

"DAMN. MY NEW SILPAT!"

Windows open, doors open, fans oscilating - it took a good 1/2 hour for the smoke to clear and the pan to cool down enough for me to get a good look at the results.

The pastry shells, as expected, had the look and texture of a lump of coal like bad children get at Christmas. But the Silpat was perfect. Not a mar, not a bubble, not a discoloration anywhere. And, to this day, still very much non-stick and fabulous.

So the moral of the story here is: Arrogance and stupidity will get you slapped upside the head like one of the 3 Stooges. And Silpat rocks.


I did have one minor "incident" yesterday. I was adding flour to the mixing bowl - slowly like a good baker should - when the phone rang. So I turned the mixer off, chatted to The Mother for a bit, and when I went back to turn the mixer on, I forgot that I had recently added the flour and turned it up about 2 speeds to high. So I had my own little version of a white Christmas, complete with flour up my nose.

Which, all klutziness considered, isn't too bad.

Posted by Foodwhore at September 19, 2004 02:27 PM

LOL, I will never forget the charred pastry shells incident.

I would love to be in one of those sugar induced comas your husband had the pleasure of getting himself into. Send some of those bad boys my way so I can get started. ;)

Posted by: Lina at September 19, 2004 03:42 PM

while you're packing up a box for Lina, do one up for me too? I'll send you some of my 7 layer bars and pumpkin bread and apple-pumpkin butter.

Posted by: HomefrontSix at September 22, 2004 09:12 AM

 
Powered by Movable Type 3.15