It is something that has eluded me these 20+ years. The art of baking? Now that is something I can handle. And perhaps, excel in. I truly enjoy baking culinary confections that tickle the taste-buds and delight the senses.
I can follow instruction, take orders and read directions, but leave me alone in a pristine kitchen and you may come back to find your white cabinets a suspicious shade of brown and reeking of... could it be smoke?
My sister used to actually keep a notepad full of my crazy stunts as we were growing up and trying our hands at new things. One morning I decided to make breakfast, chopped up some potatoes, got the eggs on and tortillas ready, and prepared to fry the potatoes for the breakfast burritos I could already taste.
I was (and still am) skittish when it comes to frying, so instead of picking up the potato pieces and plopping them in the pan of oil, I decided to just take the plate they were happily sitting upon and dump the whole thing in... including the gallon (almost) of water I didn't realize was also still on the plate from washing them.
The next few minutes were catastrophic ones with my sister rushing to my rescue to turn off the flame. I wouldn't go near! The grease was hitting the ceiling and making enough commotion to trigger the "flee" response in any sane girl (that doesn't know how to cook).
My sister was sure we'd have to call the fire department, polka-dot pj's and all, but we managed to get the explosion under control and have breakfast anyway. I think that was one meal I certainly appreciated and, believe it or not, it wasn't the last time I made breakfast burritos.
Baking, on the other hand, has agreed with me from the beginning. Perhaps because of my insatiable sweet tooth. And so I content myself in knowing that I can do something worthwhile in the kitchen... something to top off that delectable five-course meal (made by someone other than myself of course).