Sunday, February 22, 2009

My Winter Baking Is Lamented


















When I started this blog, it was a baking blog wherein I made light of my very infrequent baking disasters and rubbed the noses of the baking inept in my many triumphs. I then giggled merrily at the very idea of someone less awesome than I even thinking about mixing flour, sugar, salt, some leavening agent, and various other ingredients together and assuming that it would be anywhere near as delicious as anything I would bake.

Let's face it, people. I consider myself above you when it comes to baking. I mean, how could I not after that time a very dear friend threw her panties at me after tasting my chocolate chip pumpkin bars? Or the time a stranger on the street stopped me and told me that my oatmeal raisin cookies made his son see again after a lifetime of blindness? Or that other time when Martha Stewart herself called me and demanded that I hang up my apron and stop baking my poppy seed cake, lest I put people like her out of business with my amazingness?

There is just something special about the way I bake things that makes me better than you. I know it's hard to wrap your mind around it, dear reader, so don't try. Just know that when I die, my headstone will be shaped like angels weeping as they taste a tiny nibble of my famous snickerdoodles. Even in death, I will be better than you at baking.

Therefore, I consider it nothing short of a tragedy that I cannot use the brand-new oven in my apartment. You see, I have no gas. And while people suffering from chronic flatulence might misinterpret that call it a miracle, I can tell you that it's no miracle to not have gas. It's more like having a landlord who tells you that you can move in because everything is working and then realizing that "everything" doesn't include the stove because your landlord is a stupid head. Or something similar. (It's very hard to write metaphors when you live on a steady diet of microwaved omelets, microwaved turkey burgers, and microwaved quesadillas.) I've also heard that too many microwaved foods gives you an inflated ego, but I don't know if it's true.

Baking is more to me than just creating something that people eat and then watching them eat it. It's therapeutic. It's comforting. And it's how I get through the winter. Long story short, when you have mad baking skills, a brand-new oven, and no gas with which to power it, it's hard to get through February (my least favorite month ever) without going nutballs.

And considering that the oven in my previous apartment smelled like mouse piss and burned hair, I have done almost no baking at all this winter. No wonder I'm losing my mind.

So, I guess the point of this blog post is not to be particularly amusing or entertaining. Or even interesting. But to talk about how much I hate my landlord right now and get it all off my chest.

10 comments:

Jen said...

Your hatred of your landlord is very understandable. I hope you get gas soon. And then make yummy cupcakes to celebrate.

Allison Jones said...

Beth, I would stalk your landlord at night with a cape and mask, calculating every move, scaring him silly with my evil laugh, slowly terrifying that stupid head until he could think of nothing else but getting my gas turned on.

But anyways, this summer if I head back east, I will come and visit you and expect you to knock my socks off with your fantastical baking!

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@jen: The fun part is that several ladies at work know about my gas situation and ask me almost every morning, "So, do you have gas?"

@Allison: Dude, that would be AWESOME. And you had better come visit sometime.

p.j. said...

Ah, but what of the strange beasts that are No-Bake Cookies? Could that hold you over for a while?

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@p.j.: I suppose I could do that. But I'm not a huge fan of melting things in the microwave. Hmmm....maybe some Rice Krispie treats or something.

bubblegumculture.com said...

I fancy myself being a pretty excellent baker. In order to believe your claims, I'll need some samples of these delicious delights you speak of. If I need to, I'll kick your landlord's ass to make that happen.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@bubblegumculture: Let's have a bake-off. It's ON! Just know that I cheat like a motherfucker. Flour in the eyes and the whole works. ;)

jody! said...

oh dear mayor. has it not occurred to you that your lack of gas is merely a plot by one of your many archenemies? i am not sure which one, but i'll call nancy drew and get her on the case. your landlord is a simple red herring.

peach said...

oh dear, which one of us is going to tell jody that nancy drew is not real?

life is unfair. you have no gas; i have too much--in the form of a gas leak.

The Honorable Mayor of Bethville said...

@jody!: Well, he's simple anyway.

@peach: Nancy Drew is real if we believe in her in our hearts.

The gas leak explains a lot, Peach.