Just Another Busy Day

My Saturday was B-U-S-Y, unusually so!  I spent most of the day getting ready for Sunday's activities, which included a pastors' appreciation lunch at church and Owen's birthday party here in the evening.  My time was concentrated in the kitchen, but the house screamed to be cleaned, and the fall decorations impatiently sneezed their way out of a dusty box under the basement stairs. 

Here was my kitchen list, although a few tasks were meant for Sunday and a few I had to scrap:

 

The kitchen counter says it all, down to the half-eaten apple perched near the edge.

 

This is what happened when the bread timer sounded in spite of the mixing of pizza dough and cooling of cakes on the counter.  The cupcakes were resentful of sharing personal space, and rudely shoved this loaf onto the floor.

When Jason got to come home (early!) from digging peanuts, he suggested we go out for dinner.  This tired mama quickly agreed, even though the pizza dough and toppings had been prepared.  (They served me well on Tuesday evening.)

With Jason behind the vacuum, and me on bathroom maid duty, the cleaning got finished.  The house breathed a sigh of gladness and thanked me for the freshened decor.  And I thanked my husband and our waitress at Dixie Catfish for the fried dill pickles and catfish po-boy.

Pretzel Chocolate Chip Cookies

Oh yes. I am one of those who loves a good salty-sweet combo. I admit to breaking pretzels into ice cream. I like leftover frosting schmeared between Ritz crackers. I love Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby--which involves peanut-butter-filled pretzel mix in. It doesn't take much to gain my affection.

Recently I got started on Pinterest, an online bulletin board system of keeping pictures that catch one's fancy from around the internet(s). (By the way, internet/internets, which is correct and why? Anyone?)

Last night I was browsing other people's recently pinned items and came across an absolutely fabulous idea--chocolate chip cookies with crushed pretzels baked into them.

Today I just had to make them. I waited until the kids were down for their rest, so I could work without interruption, and do a neater job of it in the process. But somehow this managed to happen: WHAT?! Yes. That is a bag of bread.
Apparently this is what can happen if you knock over your mixer, the switch hits a burner knob and the laid-over beaters start spinning with no one at the controls. Seriously, I cannot understand myself.

I dutifully chilled the dough, hoping to prevent the dreaded cookie spread. I carefully measured out dough, slightly flattened each mound and sprinkled away with Kosher salt.

The end result? I had to pour myself a glass of milk to find out. Then I had to brew a fresh pot of coffee to really find out. If YOU want to find out, here's my chicken-scratch recipe. But I wouldn't trust it. I still can't remember if I used baking soda like I was supposed to, or if I grabbed the baking powder instead.
Here's the link to the real cookie genius.

Old Post: New Oven

Sometime in the aftermath of Quinn's birthday, when everyone was bringing us meals, I realized my old oven had quit. One friend brought me a dish that needed some baking time, and when she got here, my preheated oven was still cold. Since I had had absolutely enough out of that beastly appliance that continually heated up the kitchen and set off my smoke alarm, I wasn't interested in any diagnostic testing, and I'm quite sure had we had it looked at, any serviceman would have laughed himself silly over us. It was, of course, 32 years old. Not that that is a bad thing.

I have a second old oven in the basement, so I wasn't without a paddle, but after a while, the trips up and down the stairs to check on my food's progress got annoying, not to mention dangerous when I was carrying hot pizza back up the steps, blindly dodging kids and toys.

So Jason measured our cabinets and went to the appliance store. It's such a small wall space that we had only two choices in one brand--regular or self-cleaning. We did what any self-respecting, hurried homeowners would do. We bought the self-cleaning variety.

The oven had to be special ordered, since no other Atmore resident in a right state of mind would install such a tiny thing. Jason still had to modify a top cabinet to make room for the oven, and he hired a cousin to make new doors for it.

George the appliance man delivered our Frigidaire one exciting afternoon. I was happy, but immediately skeptical of one thing, the thing that had been bugging me since before the oven was even a twinkle in Jason's eye.

Sure enough. My favorite pans wouldn't fit. Not even close. Bless my heart. I had been volunteered to make a fancy dessert for a Christmas gathering, and I chose a chocolate cake roll. It had been a long several years since I had baked my recipe, so a few details were cloudy. I chose my smaller jelly roll pan, which was a mistake.
When you're pressed for time and have to make a decision on your feet, Cool Whip folded into melted chocolate chips is a clever disguise for a dessert flop. (I didn't have time to take pictures of the ugly-but-delicious finished product.)

And I'm still getting to know my new friend, who can be a little uneven tempered, and possesses an overall maladjusted, narrow outlook. But I bought some new pans, and everyone is making nice, even the smoke alarm, which has only squawked three or four times.
P.S. How d'you like my stairwell wallpaper?

A Moment of Inattention

Last night I took a break from dinner prep to feed Mr. Fussy-pants Jack. I sank into the recliner and flipped on the TV to 30 Minute Meals. I watched as Rachael Ray forked open her English muffins and put them on a baking sheet, joking about how she often burns bread in the broiler from not paying close attention. Boy, this sounds silly in writing, but I was getting caught up in the show and forgetting my own surroundings for a minute. Suddenly the piercing shriek of the smoke alarm jolted me back to reality. I was confused at first, but then remembered the tortillas I had toasting in the oven.
I threw the smoking mess on the grass. Apparently even the cat wouldn't eat them, since I took this picture the next day.