Boxing Day Baking Blahs
Yesterday was Boxing day, so if you are reading this, you too, survived Christmas. I received an early Christmas gift on Friday, my passport! Yippee, I can go with my husband on our an anniversary cruise after all.
I just wanted to sleep in, but my grandson had other ideas, 6 am ideas. So, off went the blankets, on went my slippers, and grandma was on the move, chasing a busy 22 month old little boy.
Eventually my granddaughter and husband woke up, and the first thing my granddaughter wanted to do was bake in her Easy Bake Oven that Santa had given her for Christmas. I gave my husband two choices, he could watch our grandson or bake cookies with our granddaughter. He chose the latter.
I was in the living room playing with cars, as my husband pulled out the toy oven from its box. I likened the whole experience to listening to an old radio program, lots of audio, no video.
I heard my husband pull it out of the box and plunk it on the kitchen table. He called my name and asked "What do I do?" "Read the directions." I yelled back, "It will be easier than me yelling them to you." I heard him unfold the directions booklet.
He was asking me again. "Where is the cookie mix?" " In the box" I replied back. Once again, I could hear something sliding out of the box. " Where's the cookie mold?" He bellowed. "In the box." I said....again. He and my granddaughter stood at the table, and I could hear the banter between them. My husband told our granddaughter how he used to work in a bakery when he was a young man. "Papa used to make bread, buns, and cookies." he told her.
"How much is a pinch, a dash and a sprinkle?" he yelled to me. I began to giggle. "What? You didn't encounter those measurements at the bakery?" I heard his sarcasm as he answered "Awe, no." My response, was to read the directions. "Oh come on!" he was pleading now. "It will be easier if you tell me." I suggested he find the pink measuring spoons and it would all make sense.
I heard the unmistakable sound of plastic scraping against cardboard and my husband asking my granddaughter which one was a pinch. My granddaughter said "I don't know Papa, I haven't learned that yet." I was in the living room smiling away, as I heard my husband muttering under his breath. He then appeared at the living room door and pushed the measuring spoons toward me. "Please show me what a pinch, dash and sprinkle is." I stood up and gave him my glasses, "There." I said, showing him which was which. "What's wrong with real measurements?" He grumbled. The water was running in the sink, as my husband measured carefully a pinch, dash and a sprinkle. I could hear my granddaughter using the little whisk and spatula she had found in her stocking, and I could hear her mixing the mixture against the bowl.
My husband suggested she use the spatula, but my granddaughter insisted on the whisk. "Everything is sticking to it!" said my husband horrified. "It's too dry! What should I do?" I suggested to just keep stirring. He added an extra sprinkle to loosen up the dough instead. "Oh no! It looks like cake batter! What do I do now" He was in panic mode now. I was laughing and told him "I have no clue." I suggested adding a little sugar. He listened this time and it worked.
He popped his head in the living room and looked at me suspiciously "You knew this would happen." "Hey, I gave you your choice, you chose to make cookies." I said laughing "Yea but I didn't realize you needed an engineering degree to figure this stuff out!" I was howling at this point, and my grandson seeing me began howling too.
My granddaughter came to the living room and said sadly "Grandma, Papa isn't very good at this." I laughed harder!
We heard a splat, and then we heard my husband scream like a little girl. My granddaughter and I were laughing so hard, my belly hurt. "What's wrong?" I croaked. He said "I dropped the cookie mold with the dough in it." "Well, I guess you better clean it up and start over." I said through hiccups. He came around the corner and glared at me. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" I couldn't help it, "You're a truck/trailer mechanic, you repair transport trucks and trailers, but you can't figure out a cookie recipe! That's hilarious! "
Over the next twenty minutes, I heard grunts and gasps and giggling emanating from the kitchen. I could also smell burning cookies. I walked into the kitchen and said "Your cookies are burning." My husband said "They are supposed to take 8 minutes to bake." " Yes" I said "But these are thinner, remember? They will only need about 5 minutes. " He insisted on waiting for the buzzer before taking them out. Taking them out was a challenge as well. It requires tiny fingers and a long pink spatula to pull them out. My husband was struggling and burning his fingers to get them out. When he finally did, they were almost black.
"Okay, Papa knows what he did wrong." They worked away at making some more, and this time they were perfect. My husband had a look of accomplishment on his face. My granddaughter said "Papa! You did it! I'm proud of you!" My kitchen floor had cookie dough on it, my table was covered in white cookie powder and sugar, and my husband's hair was sticking up. He should have picked watching our grandson, it would have been less work.
My granddaughter's Easy Bake Oven
Eventually my granddaughter and husband woke up, and the first thing my granddaughter wanted to do was bake in her Easy Bake Oven that Santa had given her for Christmas. I gave my husband two choices, he could watch our grandson or bake cookies with our granddaughter. He chose the latter.
I was in the living room playing with cars, as my husband pulled out the toy oven from its box. I likened the whole experience to listening to an old radio program, lots of audio, no video.
I heard my husband pull it out of the box and plunk it on the kitchen table. He called my name and asked "What do I do?" "Read the directions." I yelled back, "It will be easier than me yelling them to you." I heard him unfold the directions booklet.
He was asking me again. "Where is the cookie mix?" " In the box" I replied back. Once again, I could hear something sliding out of the box. " Where's the cookie mold?" He bellowed. "In the box." I said....again. He and my granddaughter stood at the table, and I could hear the banter between them. My husband told our granddaughter how he used to work in a bakery when he was a young man. "Papa used to make bread, buns, and cookies." he told her.
"How much is a pinch, a dash and a sprinkle?" he yelled to me. I began to giggle. "What? You didn't encounter those measurements at the bakery?" I heard his sarcasm as he answered "Awe, no." My response, was to read the directions. "Oh come on!" he was pleading now. "It will be easier if you tell me." I suggested he find the pink measuring spoons and it would all make sense.
I heard the unmistakable sound of plastic scraping against cardboard and my husband asking my granddaughter which one was a pinch. My granddaughter said "I don't know Papa, I haven't learned that yet." I was in the living room smiling away, as I heard my husband muttering under his breath. He then appeared at the living room door and pushed the measuring spoons toward me. "Please show me what a pinch, dash and sprinkle is." I stood up and gave him my glasses, "There." I said, showing him which was which. "What's wrong with real measurements?" He grumbled. The water was running in the sink, as my husband measured carefully a pinch, dash and a sprinkle. I could hear my granddaughter using the little whisk and spatula she had found in her stocking, and I could hear her mixing the mixture against the bowl.
My husband suggested she use the spatula, but my granddaughter insisted on the whisk. "Everything is sticking to it!" said my husband horrified. "It's too dry! What should I do?" I suggested to just keep stirring. He added an extra sprinkle to loosen up the dough instead. "Oh no! It looks like cake batter! What do I do now" He was in panic mode now. I was laughing and told him "I have no clue." I suggested adding a little sugar. He listened this time and it worked.
He popped his head in the living room and looked at me suspiciously "You knew this would happen." "Hey, I gave you your choice, you chose to make cookies." I said laughing "Yea but I didn't realize you needed an engineering degree to figure this stuff out!" I was howling at this point, and my grandson seeing me began howling too.
My granddaughter came to the living room and said sadly "Grandma, Papa isn't very good at this." I laughed harder!
We heard a splat, and then we heard my husband scream like a little girl. My granddaughter and I were laughing so hard, my belly hurt. "What's wrong?" I croaked. He said "I dropped the cookie mold with the dough in it." "Well, I guess you better clean it up and start over." I said through hiccups. He came around the corner and glared at me. "You're enjoying this aren't you?" I couldn't help it, "You're a truck/trailer mechanic, you repair transport trucks and trailers, but you can't figure out a cookie recipe! That's hilarious! "
Over the next twenty minutes, I heard grunts and gasps and giggling emanating from the kitchen. I could also smell burning cookies. I walked into the kitchen and said "Your cookies are burning." My husband said "They are supposed to take 8 minutes to bake." " Yes" I said "But these are thinner, remember? They will only need about 5 minutes. " He insisted on waiting for the buzzer before taking them out. Taking them out was a challenge as well. It requires tiny fingers and a long pink spatula to pull them out. My husband was struggling and burning his fingers to get them out. When he finally did, they were almost black.
"Okay, Papa knows what he did wrong." They worked away at making some more, and this time they were perfect. My husband had a look of accomplishment on his face. My granddaughter said "Papa! You did it! I'm proud of you!" My kitchen floor had cookie dough on it, my table was covered in white cookie powder and sugar, and my husband's hair was sticking up. He should have picked watching our grandson, it would have been less work.
My granddaughter's Easy Bake Oven
Dash, pinch and sprinkle measuring spoons
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