Home » in the kitchen » a song for my stupid self

a song for my stupid self

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Sure. We’d love to come.

She said.

What can we bring? Dessert? Sure!

She said.

No problem.

She said.

Then why am I standing here at 10 am, looking at lemon bars that really belong in a dessert burn unit, trying desperately NOT to throw them out the closed window?

Why?

I checked them ten minutes early – Ten – after they’d baked at fifty degrees Less than the recipe called for, and they were burned to a miserable crisp. I pulled them out of the oven and felt angry tears welling up as my tongue wrapped itself around language I try not to use in front of the clean dishes. My husband rubbed my arm and said, “Come on, babe…”

It’s such a stupid, stupid thing. It makes me mad. I’m not usually prone to violent fits of temper towards baked goods, but today I just wasn’t baking at my best.

It didn’t get thrown out the window, it got sent to hide in the fridge – forever – with a prayer that I might someday be a better cook and sweeter human being. Amen.

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3 thoughts on “a song for my stupid self

  1. I have had those days!! It gets better, …..eventually……Even great cooks have those days, by what I read here, you are one of those great cooks, don’t worry, burnt bars won’t ruin your rep. Have a great day!!!

"The only time to eat diet food is while you're waiting for the steak to cook." Julia Child

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