I left the Christmas party early tonight to get a head start on my Christmas baking. You see, a bunch of us gals are getting together to do one of those fancy baking swaps. I'm pretty stoked because being invited to one of those pretty much means I am a grown up - and I bake. However, I didn't really think about what baking six dozen of something entailed. Nor did I consider that my baking experience hasn't really ventured much past muffins and cookies and, well, Betty Crocker (bless her).
I wanted to expose my dearest friends to the delicious experience of the mint chocolate meringue kisses. Those little suckers are good for popping in the mouth since they dissolve into minty chocolatey goodness. And anyway, who isn't up for a Christmas kiss?
I zipped over to my Save-On, and naturally they were out of the mint chocolate chips. Grrr. I went to IGA. Again, no mint chocolate. This baking thing is pretty darn stressful. Staring at the chocolate chip section in remorse, I whipped out my phone and dialed MY MOTHER. Oh sweet mother of mine, please rescue me as only you can.
New plan: fudge. From scratch. Cooked by me. Six batches. Got it. (This is definitely gonna be less stress.)
With my phone shoved between my ear and my shoulder, I started piling ingredients into my basket. The basket thing was a bad idea; my shoulders/arm sockets will be sore tomorrow, I'm sure of it.
At the checkout everything was rung in: $67. Blink. Gulp. Swipe.
Back at the ranch, I prepared myself for the baking (except, did you know, fudge doesn't require actual baking?). Apron, hair tied back, tunes (U2), clean counters, recipe. Then I began. I made a complete disaster, but everything went rather well; I only forgot the vanilla for three of the batches. I also discovered that I bought far too many supplies. Apparently four batches can really pass for six. Neat.
So in the end I had six glistening pans of chocolate fudge (it's still a gamble whether they will set properly, or whether they will be edible). My roommate came in to admire my handiwork, but when I told her how much my supplies cost, she died laughing.
Apparently I could have gone to that Rocky Mountain place and bought a WHOLE freaking log of fudge for cheaper. And no mess.
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2 comments:
I remember a certain baking soda/baking powder incident.
If you are referring to the time I made dozens of beautifully decorated whipped shortbread but accidentally used baking power instead of icing sugar, I am in awe of your memory. I was hoping to forget about scraping cookie after cookie into the garbage.
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