Oops, I Did it Again...

Once again, I’m behind on posting. The last week has been a blur of cooking, shopping and breaking up fights. I don’t have a new career as a bouncer but the kids are on break so it’s very similar.

Back to the cooking, I had a nice meal planned last week with prime rib as the main course. Then I took Claire to the store with me and before I knew it, I had agreed to also cook Claire’s favorite, crab legs, as well. I made crab cakes with chipotle sauce, prime rib, king crab, cheddar mashed potatoes, and sautéed zucchini with onion and shredded carrots. I had way too many things going at the same time and as a result, the zucchini was so overcooked that it had no more nutritional value than a Hostess Ding Dong.

After dinner I searched for containers with matching lids in order to save the leftovers. In my house it isn’t always easy to find a container with a lid. It isn’t that there is a shortage of lids. There is yet another container that is filled with just lids, many for which their mate has long disappeared, never to hold leftover macaroni again. But I keep the lids anyway because I have hope. It’s a sort of shrine for missing Tupperware everywhere….

I found myself using one of my plastic containers to save the zucchini. No matter that it was too far gone to waste my precious resources, I felt that it deserved to be saved and quietly reassured myself that maybe somebody would eat it. Nobody ate it.

That was a couple of days before Christmas. Christmas day I was forced back into the kitchen to start the ham. I pre-heated the oven and went searching the house for the gigantic pan. I managed to find it and get the ham in just as the oven beeped to telling me it was ready. I opened the oven door at the same time I realized that something didn’t smell right. That's the foreshadowing part of the stary. Then as I opened the door, I was horrified to discover that I had baked the Rice Krispie treats on their wax paper lined pan. That makes the third time this year that I have accidentally baked something that shouldn’t have been baked.

FYI- my New Year’s resolution has to do with not storing anything in the oven that has no business reaching three hundred and fifty degrees.

No, I'm not a Professional Chef, but Thanks for Asking...

I'm working on a long, informative type post about the new HPV vaccine, Gardasil for tomorrow. But in the mean time I have a baking story. Well, two baking stories.

Over the weekend I helped the girls bake a cake. They both helped with the various labor intensive tasks, such as opening the box, etc. We frosted the cake with their favorite confetti frosting. Everything was good the first day.

The next day I decided to put the cake out of sight so that Marin didn't get in it. I can still remember clearly the time her big brothers decided to get into a chocolate meringue pie without the benefit of adult supervision. It looked like there had been raccoons in the house.

In the interest of heading off trouble, I hid the cake in the oven. Then I promptly forgot about the hidden cake and pre-heated the oven. When I heard the beep signaling that it had arrived at the correct temperature I opened the oven and discovered that I had re-baked the cake. I thought the kids would be upset but they just ate it anyway.

I don't bake a lot but sometimes I get in a mood and make a pie, home-made cookies or even the day-long project of cinnamon rolls. Since these tend to be infrequent events I somehow end up with stockpiles of powdered sugar. My friend Andrea is the same height as me but has freakishly long arms. This means that Andrea is the one I talk into doing the things that would require me to get a chair and drag it into the kitchen.

Andrea was organizing the cabinet over the sink that holds my baking supplies a few months ago. She pulled everything out and we discovered the powdered sugar stockpile. I had over six packages which would probably be enough to last for the next decade. Then she pulled out a bag containing crystallized brown sugar that was only identified by the label on the bag. It had about half-a-cup. Clearly I always think that I need powdered sugar but it's really brown sugar.

So far not that interesting, right? Then my mom called me a few days ago and started talking about powdered sugar.

Mom- "When your dad comes to visit, I'm sending a couple of bags of powdered sugar."

Me- "Are you kidding? Didn't I tell you about the embarrassing supply we found in my cabinet?"

Mom- "No, what do you mean?"

Me- "Well, apparently I always think we're out but we're not. In fact, we're never out."

Mom- "I do that too! That's why I'm sending you the extra."

I had to call my sister after that and find out if this is a dysfunction that runs in our family.

Me- "So, do you have more than one bag of powdered sugar at your house?"

Lynne- "No, but I need to get some. I want to do some baking."

Me- "You mean you don't have any? I have a ton because I keep thinking I'm out."

Lynne- "Well, I used to. But I had to throw all that stuff out because of the arsen*ic."

I should have seen that one coming. Just recently she called her insurance agent to try and turn in a claim for a missing shoe.