I am a big fan of cake. Eating them, that is. I couldn't bake a cake if my life depended on it, not even from a packaged cake mix. I don't know why but whenever I try cake baking something goes horribly wrong and I have no cake. Fortunately, my Mom, my wife, and my sister-in -law are excellent bakers so I can usually whine and pout till one of them takes pity on me and I have cake.
One of my favorite cakes is carrot cake. Not just any carrot cake but the one the lovely Explorer will make for me when I have been a particularly good boy. A couple of weeks ago I see her gathering all the ingredients together and...oh boy, oh boy, cake for me. Not so. She is baking one for a lovely older couple down the street for his birthday. Rats. "Not to worry" says she. "More to follow". Sure enough, we are having a large family gathering and she is preparing individual serving versions of the cake...Yippee. Again, not to be. I turn my back for one minute, the hungry hoards descend, no cake for me. "Poor baby" She says."I shall make one just for you" And, sure enough, because I have somehow offended the Gods, the Explorer has one of her very rare baking flops...no cake for me.
MOM...I need cake!
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A short break while I whip up a batch of Rice Krispie squares. Fortunately, this is not baking, just melting and stirring. I can do that.
There, all better now.
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About a million years ago when the Explorer and I were living in Grande Prairie I had a brilliant idea. It was a lazy Saturday and we had a fresh pork roast waiting in the fridge. It was about 4ish in the afternoon when I popped it in the oven. Meanwhile, says brilliant me, we can go out to the theatre and see that movie we wanted to see. When we get back we can enjoy a nice dinner. So, we locked the little guy in the closet with a bowl of water and off we went. (Oh relax, he was fine, he was at Grandma and Grandpa's)
After the movie we decided (roast completely forgotten) why not go for dinner as well. Well, with the kid safely chained up in the basement (Oh for God's sake, read the above), we decided what the heck, we have time, let's go. And so we did.
More hours later we are driving home and...PORK ROAST!!! Holy Crapola! I may have broken a few traffic laws heading home, all the while looking for smoke and flames in the distance. Made it home to an intact residence and a shrunken, blackened pork roast. Not sure why the place wasn't filled with smoke but counted my lucky stars. The moral of the story? Never, ever, under any circumstances...ooh look...shiny thing.
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The above tale notwithstanding, I think I am a pretty good cook. However, I have always worried what others thought about my abilities. Do they really like my cooking or are they just being polite? A bunch of years ago I had the opportunity to publicly display my abilities. A friend of mine was the head chef at a local hotel and had hired me as a weekend dishwasher so I could make a few extra bucks. He taught me a bunch of stuff and I graduated to doing some line cooking. This ultimately lead to me throwing on a chef's hat and heading out to the Sunday brunch omelette station. There I was, cooking to order, in front of a crowd, never once a complaint and often a compliment! And what did ths do for my confidence? Not a damn thing. I still wonder; am I good or are they polite? Well, at least I never poisoned anybody...I think.
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I am sure some of you are thinking, "Hey, a whole blog and no motorcycles...HAHAHAHAHA.
Years ago the explorer and I were out for a motorcycle ride (there ya go) when we stopped for some lunch at this hole in the wall place in a small town. You could see into the kitchen from the dining room and we watched in anticipation as the cook quickly made up the fresh patties for our burgers and cut up fresh potatoes for our fries. Lord, that was a good burger and fries. We both remember that place to this day except for two things...what was the name of the restaurant and what bloody town was it in?
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Right, that's it for now. Gotta go, them steaks won't BBQ themselves...hope the Explorer likes it.
MOM...I need cake!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A short break while I whip up a batch of Rice Krispie squares. Fortunately, this is not baking, just melting and stirring. I can do that.
There, all better now.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
About a million years ago when the Explorer and I were living in Grande Prairie I had a brilliant idea. It was a lazy Saturday and we had a fresh pork roast waiting in the fridge. It was about 4ish in the afternoon when I popped it in the oven. Meanwhile, says brilliant me, we can go out to the theatre and see that movie we wanted to see. When we get back we can enjoy a nice dinner. So, we locked the little guy in the closet with a bowl of water and off we went. (Oh relax, he was fine, he was at Grandma and Grandpa's)
After the movie we decided (roast completely forgotten) why not go for dinner as well. Well, with the kid safely chained up in the basement (Oh for God's sake, read the above), we decided what the heck, we have time, let's go. And so we did.
More hours later we are driving home and...PORK ROAST!!! Holy Crapola! I may have broken a few traffic laws heading home, all the while looking for smoke and flames in the distance. Made it home to an intact residence and a shrunken, blackened pork roast. Not sure why the place wasn't filled with smoke but counted my lucky stars. The moral of the story? Never, ever, under any circumstances...ooh look...shiny thing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The above tale notwithstanding, I think I am a pretty good cook. However, I have always worried what others thought about my abilities. Do they really like my cooking or are they just being polite? A bunch of years ago I had the opportunity to publicly display my abilities. A friend of mine was the head chef at a local hotel and had hired me as a weekend dishwasher so I could make a few extra bucks. He taught me a bunch of stuff and I graduated to doing some line cooking. This ultimately lead to me throwing on a chef's hat and heading out to the Sunday brunch omelette station. There I was, cooking to order, in front of a crowd, never once a complaint and often a compliment! And what did ths do for my confidence? Not a damn thing. I still wonder; am I good or are they polite? Well, at least I never poisoned anybody...I think.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I am sure some of you are thinking, "Hey, a whole blog and no motorcycles...HAHAHAHAHA.
Years ago the explorer and I were out for a motorcycle ride (there ya go) when we stopped for some lunch at this hole in the wall place in a small town. You could see into the kitchen from the dining room and we watched in anticipation as the cook quickly made up the fresh patties for our burgers and cut up fresh potatoes for our fries. Lord, that was a good burger and fries. We both remember that place to this day except for two things...what was the name of the restaurant and what bloody town was it in?
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Right, that's it for now. Gotta go, them steaks won't BBQ themselves...hope the Explorer likes it.
