The holiday season gives domestic divas plenty of opportunities to strut their stuff. They operate in an arena in which I’ve never even attempted to compete.
Case in point: It was 5:00pm last Friday night, and I was strolling the aisles of the grocery store, maneuvering through the baking goods aisle while tossing into my overflowing cart containers of red and green sprinkles for the sugar cookies I planned to bring to my neighbor’s annual cookie swap. Start time? Two hours.
By the time I got home, dragged in and put away all the groceries, figured out who was chauffeuring which kids where that evening, and considered but quickly dismissed making dinner in favor of ordering a pizza, I was much more motivated to pour myself a glass of wine than to make Christmas cookies.
Reluctantly, I decided to do both, reaching for a bottle of chardonnay while dutifully rolling up my sleeves and digging around for my cooking bowl in the jumble of pots and pans in my kitchen cabinet. In mere minutes, I’d whipped up the batter and was feeling rather pleased with myself for not having had to substitute or simply do without any ingredients (an all too common plight I face in the kitchen) when I got to the next step in the recipe. It stopped me in my tracks. Chill cookie dough for two hours, it read. Well, I don’t have time for that, I thought. Nor was there room in my refrigerator.
Instead, I stuck the dough-filled bowl out in the cold December air for a few minutes then, after retrieving it, plopped the ball of dough onto my flour-covered stove to roll it out, failing to realize the effect of the oven—directly beneath the stove—which was pre-heating. Read More →