Nailed It!

     

     I was confident. In fact, I had tried to encourage a friend earlier in the day with a simple recipe I had tried that was a huge hit. I smiled to myself afterwards, envisioning myself as the next Master Chef. Its almost as if I could see my face on the front of a snazzy new cook book. I would have my hair up in a messy bun, but unlike the real thing, this bun would look tantalizing just like all the fun and easy recipes I would have published...

     Later that day, after a walk with Brad I asked if we could stop at the grocery store.

"What do you need honey?" he asked.

Without batting an eye I replied, "Two rolls of biscuit dough and some powder sugar," Like a pro baker I continued, "Tonight we are having Breakfast for dinner."

   When we got home I started the music, I needed to get inspired. I was going to attempt Sausage and Egg McGriddles and homemade donuts. I have been getting into the habit of doing two things for every meal. #1 Google the recipe I am thinking of attempting. #2 cook something in my Instapot.

   The current challenge was how to thaw frozen sausage patties in the Instapot while trying to figure out how to thaw egg patties in the microwave as I mixed together instant pancake mix and syrup for the McGriddles. If you are shaking your head at my less than gourmet ingredients ,just wait. Next I opened the Texas style biscuits. Because I had left them out for awhile when I opened them they exploded. Two dough balls landed on the floor. I screamed. Judah came running to see what happened. I quickly scooped them up, five second rule. What? A little dirt never hurt anyone.

     I didn't bother rereading the directions for the biscuit donuts (it was all stored in my Master Baker brain). I reheated the oil I had used a few nights before. What would it hurt? Meanwhile I cut holes in the center of each biscuit.

    The Instapot was steaming and the eggs were defrosting in the microwave. I frowned at the rubbery texture of the bright yellow rounds. "Hmmmm....it must need more time," I said as I popped it back in to the microwave.

   The oil was boiling now so I started the donuts. The first time I made them they were to cook a minute on each side, but at 30 seconds they were almost charred so I flipped them. Quickly I pulled out a bowl for the frosting along with the powder sugar and milk I would use for the Donut glaze.

Judah in only Superman underpants, started dancing from one foot to the other. Potty training has a way of interrupting everything.

"Lydia! take Judah to the potty..."

     Looking down at donuts they were getting brown almost instantly. I started flipping them as quickly as I dropped them in the oil. As they cooled on the wire rack I stirred the glaze. I needed more powder sugar but as I pushed the sugar out of the bag it exploded all over my shirt and unto the floor.

Exasperated I cried out for help, "Brad, flip the pancakes! ALEXA stop the music!"

    He came in and assessing the situation with my shirt and my souring attitude jumped in like a champ. He flipped the pancakes but it was too late they were burnt from cooking too long.

      I let out a loud lament. My cooking manifesto was turning into a disaster. The Instapot beeped. The  sausage patties were finished so I let them vent with a big puff of steam. Brad quietly made more pancakes to replace the half charred first batch while I frosted the donuts. I tried to put extra frosting on the blackish ones. On a dinner plate eight donuts sat in a row covered in a thick gooey glaze.

      Picking up the most homely almost burnt one, the glaze covering my fingers. I took a big bite. It was warm and surprisingly didn't taste too bad, but ouch I bit into something black and hard. My tooth actually throbbed for a few seconds. WHAT WAS THAT? I then noticed all the donuts had little bits of black pieces in them. I picked at one of the donuts. That is when I noticed the edge of the the plastic spatula curled over like scraped butter.

     Brad had gathered everyone to the table. I panicked. I couldn't serve them Cancer Rings! Brad tried to be supportive.

"Dianne they are fine you just have to pick the black stuff out before you eat it."

"No, that is where I draw the line," I said with disgust. I threw the oven mitt on the floor, " I am a failure."

     My kids grew quiet as they noticed the powder sugar cloud on my shirt and the way I flung the donuts into the trash.

"No," I said with determination, "I will make a new batch."

     So while the kids started to assemble their copycat sausage and egg McGriddles I dumped out the oil and opened a new roll of biscuits. I made sure the fresh oil wasn't as hot this time. I used a metal fork to flip the doughy rings. The kids raved loudly about the McGriddles at the table.

"I can't even taste the weird egg," Lydia said trying to be nice.

"This is really good," Elaina seconded.

     After a few minutes the new batch of donuts were on the table and even Judah tried them. They did turn out pretty delicious but my imaginary dream of being a legit Master chef vanished in the cloud of confection and the smokey film of hot canola oil.

     After the meal was done I looked at Brad and said, maybe I wasn't meant to be good at cooking biscuit donuts otherwise we might gain 100 pounds. He just smiled and gave me a hug.

     And that is how it is in Dianne's kitchen. There's a whole lot of dreaming and not much to show for it, but at least I tried. One thing is for sure, I won't be boasting of my cooking anytime soon.

Pride comes before a fall.

I nailed that one.