So CW has had a crappy couple of days and, to be cute, I thought tonight I would make something special and sweet. He was going out with some work friends and, though he knew he would enjoy himself once he got there was just grumpy. So I embarked on my mission with resolve.
First, I took out our Anyone Can Cook cookbook. It has a "something sweet" section - perfect! But wait: all of the recipes require ingredients that we don't have, stuff like vanilla extract. Damn.
(Surely you see where this is going. What kind of person doesn't have a bottle of vanilla extract? Domestic FAIL.)
Aha! Apparently, all it takes is flour, butter, and sugar to make shortbread cookies! Then, you can throw pretty much whatever you want! All I have for desert seasoning is cinnamon, nutmeg, and frozen blueberries. Luckily, one option the book listed is brown sugar, cinnamon and cloves; I'll just substitute the nutmeg and be all set!
This is where, I suspect, things started going down hill. For one, after I put in 1/3 of the sugar the recipe called for, I wasn't using brown sugar. In fact, I didn't even have it. With a careless shrug, I explained to Maddie that was fine, I'd just throw the spices in anyway and just have milder flavored cookies. Then, I couldn't figure out how to measure out 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon using the grinder we have. So I just cranked that thing until I thought I had the right amount. Next, I dropped about 50% more nutmeg into the mix than I was supposed to.
So when I put in the partially melted stick of butter, I shouldn't have been surprised that the dough wasn't really sticking. I had far too many dry ingredients, I realized. That's: just keep throwing more butter in there!
Almost a full stick later, I figured there was nothing me to be done: gotta get those babies in. So I start squishing the very crumbly dough together with the idea of rolling it out. Except I don't have a rolling pin. Apparently, there is no limit to my ability to improvise; I never knew I had it in me! So I use a juice glass. Still doesn't work, too crumbly.
"Well, I'll just mold it into little cookies with my hands!" I say to Maddie, who leaves the kitchen for her couch to wait for CW, and sanity, to return to the household.
I bang those cookies together and toss 'em in the oven for 20 minutes. Open the door: still pretty much raw dough. 10 more minutes later: no change.
This is where, if I had guests coming or something, I'd prolly just cry. Goddamnit, I just want to be a domestic goddess, is that too much to ask?? But in this situation, there is no pressure, and think CW will get a greater laugh out of it as it is.
So I make some hot cider instead while I wait for him to come home and shake his head at me. (I am capable of recipies with three steps or less: pour cider into pot, turn heat on low, and add cinnamon. Even that took a few tries; twice already, I've boiled over a pot of cider. Very sticky.)