I started out with pretzels. They turned out ok. I mean they didn't look like the ones in the picture but the taste test proved to be good to go. Tasted yummy. I sent them off to family and friends plain with the intention that when they arrived to their destination, the receivers would make their own topping. I considered setting baked goods at random people's doors but thought that would be a bit creepy. Can you imagine trying to send pretzels all buttery and gooey with sugar and/or salt toppings? Disastrous! Well my puffy little fat pretzels came out and that was the start of the day. Good start, you say? Read on, my friends...read on.
Dinner fast approached and I pondered what to make for it. After all, I needed to eat something as it was 2300 (11pm for those of my readers unfamiliar with military time). For the past week, I was craving breakfast food. Not cereal or hash browns or eggs but I was craving French toast. Moist French toast that is slightly buttery and covered in sweet gooey syrup. I pulled out my fancy Teflon frying pan I bought in a set from Walmart and set to cooking. After putting a slab of butter in the bottom of said frying pan, I turned on my stove and started mixing the eggs with just a tad scootch of milk. A scootch (pronounced like scotch except with a long o) is when you hold the milk over the bowl and just wiggle the jug so some splashes out, just fyi. The butter starts sizzling, notifying me that it is now time to add the eggy bread. Smoke begins rise from my frying pan so I turned on the over head thingy that sucks the exhaust from the oven. Exhaust fan, yeah. I get two slices of bread freshly placed in the pan when all of a sudden a loud piercing alarm goes off. After, regaining my bearings, I quickly abandon my feast (after turning off the heat source) to climb a chair and press the button on the smoke detector. Silence in sued as I tried to plan how to get the smoke out of my apartment. I turned on both bathroom exhaust fans, opened my porch door and turned on every blessed fan in my abode. As I turned to go back to cooking, I found that a great deal of smoke was pouring into the air above my frying pan.
"What the heck??? I turned off the stove!" I found myself saying aloud. (I am finding that I talk to myself much more now that I am living alone.)
Apparently, you have to REMOVE the cooking utensil from the burner on electric stoves as the burner does not cool down as rapidly as on a gas range top. Another lesson learned in the world of the independent Magpie. I went to turn off the lights in my apartment so that bugs wouldn't come in attracted to the light (and so that my neighbors would only hear the insanity and not see it). The alarm rang out yet again so I re climbed my alarm chair and pressed the standby button. And then I stood there. On the chair. Waiting. Waiting for that alarm to go off again. It happened one more time. Then I ate my French toast (slightly soggy due to sitting in egg and butter for a good half hour) by light of the t.v.
BUT the night is not over yet for night shift Maggie! I've got to add insult to injury! I promised the brothers and some friends cookies! Can't let them down! Things calmed down alarm wise so I was able to resume my night life in somewhat normalcy without fans going and doors opened. I turned on the stove and began preparing the cookie sheets, as I already made the dough. I have to say, I was a little tentative about the electric stove. I didn't have a whole lot of experience baking in one and the last time I did, my cake didn't turn out cooked right. However, my first few batches came out amazing. Delicious, I might add. I guess cooking with an electric stove wasn't all THAT bad.
Spoke too soon.
I dapped on the fourth batch. The timer went off suggesting that it was finished. But they were still raw. So I added more time. The timer went off a second time. Nope, still raw. Maybe I need to turn the temperature up. I turned the dial from 375 degrees to 400 and reset the timer.
DING DING DING
Still raw.
Hmmmmm.......450. Reset timer.
DING DING DING
STILL raw. 500. Reset timer.
DING DING DING.
Raw...crispy...and I could touch all of the inside of the oven. It took two hours to bake that one batch that didn't even BAKE! AND it was now something like 0200 (2am). I was tired. I was discouraged. I was fed up. How many cooking disasters need to occur in one day!?!?!? I threw the rest of everything away. No more cooking for the Magpie tonight. I'll pick it up another time. Maybe even earlier in the day so as not to wake up my sleeping day shift neighbors.
Now, I hope that I did not chase any of my readers away with my cooking story. I am actually an EXCELLENT cook and LOVE to bake for my family and friends. Next time you come over I'll show you. Till next time!
Magpie.
PS. I thought I broke my stove. I was really frustrated. But then a few days later it worked again. I am now convinced that either my kitchen hates me or is laughing at me while I sleep.
