Burnt Offerings

So today I wielded my mad cooking skills (ha!) in front of a couple of 8 year olds... the result burnt cookies.  It's pathetic.  We're supposed to be teaching them, but I think it in the sense of what not to do.  But if the example isn't right can they really be learning anything...?


It brings me back to the days of biking to the Village Market to pick up a bag of hamburger buns.  "Buy the regular ones, not the potato ones, they're less expensive."  My mother says.  She unwittingly leaves me hanging in the predicament of what to do because there are no regular ones.  I decided to buy them.  Only to embarrass myself by coming up a dime short for the purchase.  I race home get the dime and save the day... why didn't she buy buns, knowing that she was making burgers?  She did  I learned my mad cooking skills from her.  She burned the first batch, and the victims lay strewn on the lawn as the smell of burnt buns permeated everything in the kitchen.  This wasn't, however an isolated incident, my mother began buying twice as many buns, taco shells, you name it,  as she needed for the meal.  My father made a running joke out of it by announcing as he came through the door, that he knew what was for dinner because of the evidence my mother had disposed of on the lawn outside the kitchen door.

So to sum up, I think I've taught quite a bit to the girls.  Pay attention, set the blasted timer, make more than you plan on using, have a fire extinguisher close at hand,  and marry a rich man that can truly bring home the dough!  (Better yet, just eat the cookie dough raw.)  lunchtime-survey-what-was-your-worst-baking-disaster