Ever since our native mayor issued a COVID-19 shelter-in-place-and-go-completely-cocoa bananas order, my household and I’ve discovered ourselves cooking greater than now we have for our complete lives. We’ve even been following recipes and utilizing the precise range/oven thingy, a lot to the aid of our exhaustipated microwave.
As a result of these have been the primary cookies we had made shortly that didn’t begin out in a refrigerated tube, we needed to find the components. After rifling by the bowels of our pantry, we discovered some prehistoric flour, Crisco, baking soda and vanilla extract — the remnants of a tragic try at making Christmas cookies a number of months in the past.
I’m undecided whether or not any of it was expired, nevertheless it didn’t stink or battle again, so I assumed it was OK.
We had loads of chocolate morsels — due to my center daughter frequently including them to the grocery checklist so she will cover in a closet with a bag of morsels bigger than her head, a serving spoon, and a jar of creamy Jif to binge on her personal twisted model of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. (OK, that’s me, however I’m fairly positive she does it, too.)
The cookies have been scrumptious, together with those that we really baked. And we’re hoping to get all the flour out of our garments and hair earlier than faculty begins subsequent fall. The cookies have been so addictive, in actual fact, that we’ve had to withstand making them too usually, and have managed to chop it right down to a few batches per day.
After we had rocked the Nestle Toll Home, I made a decision to strive my hand on the deep magic of Grandma’s old school pound cake. I by no means actually understood why it’s referred to as “pound cake” till I noticed that the recipe requires sufficient components to assist the American farming business for the foreseeable future.
I really felt responsible whereas I used to be cracking the required variety of eggs, like I used to be again in junior excessive vandalizing any individual’s entrance home windows — not that I ever did that — not even to that cute woman who wouldn’t go to the films with me to look at Meatballs Part II.
Regardless of following the recipe proper right down to the final delivery container of pure cane sugar, my pound cake clung to the Bundt pan like that infernal “Dance Monkey” track that’s been caught in my melon for the previous three weeks. We tried the whole lot to get the cake to show unfastened — steaming it, freezing it, threatening to make it watch Joe Exotic’s music movies. Nothing labored.
Lastly, I simply gave up and gouged out the cake in chunks, till I wound up with a heap of freshly baked wreckage. I used to be so disenchanted within the disgraceful presentation that I may solely deliver myself to eat three servings that evening after dinner.
Regardless of a number of mishaps, I’ve totally loved frequently trashing the kitchen with my spouse and daughters to get my thoughts off the COVID-19 disaster. There’s simply one thing about sitting round a desk loaded down with harmful ranges of selfmade carbohydrates that brings a household nearer collectively.
And although I nonetheless can’t name myself the Rembrandt of baked items, at the very least I can fake to be Mad Max once I go to Walmart for extra Crisco.
— Jase Graves is an award-winning humor columnist whose columns have been featured in Texas Escapes journal, The Shreveport Times in Louisiana, and the Kilgore News Herald and Longview News-Journal in Texas. Contact him at [email protected] or connect with him on Facebook. Click here to read previous columns. The opinions expressed are his personal.
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