Now most of you who know me know that happiness for me is when someone else does the cooking. I come from a long line of bad cooks on one side and a long line of amazing cooks who refuse to go into the kitchen on the other side. I am going to say that I am very talented but I still haven't figured out which side I take after. Due to the nature of my life now I am forced into the kitchen on a semi daily basis. This works well and dandy when the only thing I'm cooking are quesadillas and hard boiled eggs, but God insists upon me taking the role of comic relief. He does this by pushing me out of my comfort zone and into the kitchen.
This week I made Zucchini bread, banana bread, sweet mustard beef, and my favorite, pesto. I have managed to screw up all of them. Being an Anne, of course I messed them up beautifully in different ways, so at least I'm learning and not making the same mistake twice.
I jokingly tell people that nothing could be worse than the time that I killed Mrs. Fleischman's yeast. Mrs. Fleischman is the mother of one of my favorite college roommates and sometimes on long weekends we would go home with Abby because she was the only one of us who had family who lived in the state. On one such weekend Mrs. Fleischman invited me to enter the sacred of her kitchen to help her make bagels. I was in charge of adding the ingredients while she puttered around making dinner. Did you know that salt comes out in a rush if you are not careful? Well I didn't. Poor Mrs. Fleischman could not for the life of her figure out why her perfect bagels were not rising and instead were doing their best impression of a sat upon pancake. After some research and various repetitions of what I had added we discovered her mistake- namely, it was her fault for letting me help. The bagels/pancakes were my fault because I added too much salt which killed the yeast which made it so the dough would not rise which resulted in me being flung from the kitchen while she fixed the dough. Then she graciously allowed me to return and destroy her bagels further. Did you know that bagels are supposed to be round? And they're supposed to have holes in them? Somehow I knew this but I think it didn't work so well because none of my bagels were round or had holes in them. They looked more like scares with random pokey marks in the tops of them. Her bagels were perfect. In case I had not done enough damage she then had me put toppings on them- you know sesame seeds, poppy seeds, garlic, etc. Well guess who managed to poor an entire case of sesame seeds into the pan, almost hiding the bagels. For the record, this saintly woman did have a lapse of judgement again, and again, every time I came to visit. She would let me "help" her (or desecrate her kitchen) and then would dutifully fix my mistakes while I stood shamefacedly as far away from it as I could manage while remaining in Florida.
Anyways, like I said, nothing could be worse than that time, but believe me when I say that I've come close this week. When I made zucchini bread (with directions set out in front of me) I misread "tsp" for "tbs". Did you know that there is a significant difference between two teaspoons and two tablespoons? Especially when it's salt? Unfortunately no one caught this particular mistake until long after it was done cooking. Consequently my zucchini bread which is supposed to be sweet, tastes like I used salt water instead of regular water. My only thought is that most of it's been eaten (thankfully as it appears to get saltier with age) and that if you put enough jam on the bread you can't REALLY taste it.
Then I made banana bread. I cannot take full credit for this one as no one warned me that we do not have standard size bread pans. Consequently they take longer to cook. So I kept on adding ten minutes to the cook time, and then adding ten more and then ten more. I did this for at least forty minutes and then I thought for SURE it must be done by NOW. I was wrong. Now we have to toast the banana bread to make sure it's not half cooked in the center. As I said before, I am so very talented.
This morning while making the sweet mustard beef, my tongs slipped and I now have a rather large blood blister on my ring finger that make me feel squeamish. I am one of those people that as long as I don't see it, you can poke me, prod me, slice me and dice me. Describe it to your heart's content, while I'm eating, and I will not care, but God help you if I see it. Consequently this blood blister is running me through the ringer because it hurts, and me being the ADD person that I am I keep on thinking, why does my finger hurt? Oh yes, because there's this giant red thing on my hand, pulsating blood just under the surface. blech. Have I mentioned I am still suffering the effects from a migraine I acquired late last night? The rest of my recipe seems to be turning out reasonably well, other than the fact that it has a great deal of molasses in it (yuck) and I seem to have run out of it. Ah well, I'm hoping that this works.
As to the pesto I am making, well, it's not quite done, so I'm praying that maybe, just maybe, this one might turn out alright. Pesto is one of my favorite foods, along with anything with basil in it. Just the same I have managed to ruin basil before and killed several plants in the process. Some days I think my garden would be better off if I were not the one gardening it. Just the same, at least once a week I go out and sit with my basil and croon to it, "Good basil plants. You're so beautiful. Someday you will grow big and strong and if you're really lucky you'll become pesto." It was only after someone caught me at it that I realized that this might not be the best incentive to the basil to grow "big and strong."
Dear God, I know that this life you have given me is really just one big adventure and everything I have is a gift from You, but please, please let me not ruin the pesto. I don't know if the basil plants will ever forgive me for letting them down. Let me not desecrate another one of my favorite foods. Amen. Sincerely, The Gabbie Lady
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