Yesterday I had to leave work early to pick up my 9-year-old, who had a fever. It upset my planned out day and (natch) made me want to eat. I took the dog for a walk, ate my tuna and salad for lunch, and went on to make a cake my coworkers have been after me to make for them for a few weeks (I am the baker extraordinaire at work). In spite of having baked it for 15 minutes longer than the recipe said, when I took it out of the bundt pan it stuck to the pan and parts of it stayed behind.
I scraped out the parts and they looked mighty tasty. I tasted --mmmmm....chocolatey warm goodness, with lovely melted chocolate bits. I thought, OOhh..this would be so good with ice cream. I got out the ice cream, dished up a bit, and dug in. It wasn't as good as I had imagined. I thought, "I'll eat the whole thing standing here and then I'll eat the rest of the stuck cake." Then I thought, "Wait a minute, missy. You aren't the slightest bit hungry and this doesn't taste as heavenly as you thought it would. What's really going on?" I realized that I was frustrated over being home with a sick child, and was upset that the cake hadn't turned out perfectly, thus risking my fab baking reputation. I dumped everything down the sink and went on to make cookies for my daughter's school holiday program. I was fine -- ate one cookie and moved on with life.
Coming April 2018: A Merry Baby
2 weeks ago