I had a pretty good story going about my morning, making gingerbread cookies at 430 a.m.... While the first batch was cooking... Stopped to take them out of the oven and put in the second batch and lost my story. So, while cursing and not paying attention, the oven timer beeps, I go to get the second batch out and they are little melted puddles on the sheet. Oven shuts off when the timer goes off. Why? Doesnt look like cookies now. Looks like the nite the pup overindulged on the milk replacer and I didnt hear him wanting outside. Piss. Thisll be another of those every other sheet of cookies is ruined experiences... My cookies get progressively larger on each batch. Goes faster that way. That is how the gingerbread man was born. The cook decided she had more important things to do with her time than to painstakingly spoon each gooey little drop of dough onto the sheet. So, she poured the remaining batter in a figure that slightly resembled someone she loved that happened to be out enjoying the beautiful sunshine outside the stinking kitchen window. Set the timer for 10-1/2 minutes, wiped off the cupboards, put on her boots, shut the timer off and pulled out the gingerbread man. Then out the door she went!! But I have seven minutes left on the last batch. It shouldnt be the last batch but I didnt get as many cookies as I should have. The rest of them are hanging off the cupboard doors, stuck to the window and smeared across the front of my shirt. Gingerbread dough has it out for me. I create the damn stuff and it comes at me with a vengeance. I always put all the ingredients in the bowl, turn on the mixer, then busy myself with something else until I hear the motor kind of groan and act like it needs to gear down. At that point, I use the trusty spatula to wipe off the sides of the bowl and, Tada! it is mixed. Not so with gingerbread dough. It has a plan. It lays down in the bottom of the bowl until my attention is diverted. Then, it quickly coordinates its components to begin building a rope. Slowly, this rope climbs the side of the bowl and lies in wait. As soon as I am within striking distance, out it pounces, its wicked head slapping my shirt, flinging bits of itself across the kitchen, sticking to the walls, the doors, the windows, refusing to let me reach the power switch. So I plunge the trusty wooden handle spatula into its middle, halt the spinning motion, and save what is left of the dough... And that is why there are only 3 dozen cookies from a 6 dozen recipe.
Posted on: Sun, 21 Dec 2014 14:51:11 +0000
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