I hate baking

Every year around Christmas for some reason, I fancy myself a baker. I'm just not. That doesn't stop the visions of sugar plums and nestle toll house cookies from dancing in my head though. I imagine myself, listening to christmas carols while baking perfect ginger bread cookies in my cozy warm kitchen with snowy window panes. But the fact is, I hate baking.

This morning, armed with more ambition than Martha Stewart I set out to do my Christmas baking. I have a kitchen aid standing mixer, new baking sheets, parchment paper, cooling racks and even stainless steel cookie droppers. I decide to start out with the easiest quickest thing... the pull apart Pillsbury sugar cookies. Simple, right? Not so much. The bottoms of the cookies began spreading immediately, leaving an uncooked lump in the middle. The cookies were almost burned before the lump settled down into a crater, making the cookies look more like large belly buttons.

Then I moved on to the oatmeal drop cookies which are also extremely simple. I didn't cook them long enough, so instead of turning into chewy fudgey oatmeal goodness, they kept their mashed potato consistency. Despite the encouraging, "Just shake it off" from the Hubby, I became more and more irritated. I was mad at the cookies. I was mad at the pot I cooked them in, I was mad at the Irish Oatmeal I used instead of Quaker.

Jorma retreated to the living room, trying to stay under the radar, finally determining that there was no where in the house that was under the radar, swept up our child and went off into the world of maddened Christmas shoppers. Even the maddened Christmas shoppers are better company that a wrathful wife that has just thrown out about 3 dozen lumps of gooey chocolate drop cookies.

I moved on to the banana bread. Three loafs. Trusting the internet for the recipes. Stupid. But came out ok. Three batches of Chocolate Chip cookies later I was consoled that something was turning out ok, only managing to burn one batch of peanut butter cookies in the process.

Baking used to be so much easier when Darlene and I would get liquiored up in the process. At least then I had an excuse for poor turn out. Next year I hope I remember to read this years blog before baking. I'll still bake my little heart out... but at least I'll have been warned.