That’s right. I baked last night. From scratch. That shadow you see crossing your front door? One of the horsemen of the apocalypse. Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Not only did I bake, but I did so after completing four hours of line edits with Darcy on Geek Girl’s Guide. I. Am. A. Machine. Blame my new exercise routine, which, incidentally, bores the dog, but that’s a whole ‘nother blog post.
I’d promised Kyra some girl time, so the boys left for the hockey game and we went to the grocery store. Actually, I should back up and state I meant to bake the bread on Saturday, but found I was missing a crucial ingredient. And, no, not the bananas, oddly enough.
A loaf pan.
I know we own one. Somewhere. So, I was all set, nearly started, but luckily
searched the entire, freaking kitchen checked beforehand.
So, grocery store for loaf pan, other essentials, and Chinese takeout = mission complete. (What, I was baking, you thought I was actually going to cook dinner, too?)
The marvelous Miss B is an expert banana masher. I started her in on that while I added the other ingredients and hit stumbling block number two. I didn’t have buttermilk. But then, who does? I mean, other than all you foodie types out there. So I substituted plain yogurt. (Like the offhand way I toss that off, like I was so not Googling “substitute for buttermilk” in a complete panic for about five minutes there.)
I think it turned out okay, even though I discovered–twenty minutes into the baking–that I’d set the oven to the wrong temperature. (You know, I really should start a new blog: Disasters in Cooking.)
Just wait until I tackle something really tough. You know, like a salad. (Involves knives. Nuff said.)