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.