Thursday, March 07, 2013

Snow This ...

So, it snowed.

Really snowed.

Snowed like the meteorologists said it would snow.

This storm did not veer off its projected course. This sucker stayed steady on its path.

So Tuesday was a snow day. And that was fine. I was busy in the kitchen, trying a couple of new recipes, then deciding that they are not worthy of inclusion in the repertoire. And all the while, snow swirled around outside. As opposed to inside, which would have been problematic.

It was pretty. I took a break from baking to snap a few photographs. The one above was taken a few hours into the storm.

There was much more snow to come.

But I had no desire to go outside and deal with it. I would let it move out of the area and then shovel all at once.

Which is what I did. Yesterday morning.

For about two hours.

"That's your cardio for the day!", a friend wrote on Facebook.

"That's my cardio for a freakin' week," I replied.

Upon re-entering the house, I had taken two Advil, just in case.

And then I set upon baking again. I had figured out why one of the recipes came out so terribly. The blogger who wrote out the recipe and instructions from a cookbook failed to mention that the recipe, as written, calls for eight very large cookies, which means the time in the recipe is intended for baking eight very large cookies. (I discovered this by finding the recipe inside the book on Amazon. Thanks, Amazon, for that handy "Look Inside!" feature.) Logically, the time to bake 24 smaller cookies instead of 8 larger cookies would need to be adjusted. Unless one was aiming for cookies that could be used as paperweights.

So I modified one of my own recipes, figuring all I really had to lose was a couple of sticks of butter and a couple of eggs. And a bit of flour and sugar and such.

And hey! Success! Cue the theme from "Rocky"!

I finished all of my kitchening (which included pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven, touching my hand ever so briefly to the oven door, jerking my hand away as a reflex, and launching the cookies off of the tray onto, thankfully, the door of the oven; only one hit the floor), heated up a bit of dinner, did all the dishes and baking accoutrement that had accumulated on the counter, settled in on the couch to watch my beloved Rachel ... and woke up to Lawrence.

Oh, I'd fallen asleep. Sometime before 9 p.m.

I'm going to chalk that up to being tired from having shoveled for two hours earlier in the day and then from having been on my feet in the kitchen for the balance.

Either that or it's time for me to trade in my car for a Cadillac and move to Boca.

At least I wouldn't have to shovel. And I could spend my days in ironic track suits.

Does anyone have an orange lipstick I could borrow?

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