I don’t usually like to complain about cooking mishaps, since I already whine a lot about my personal life on this blog (hey, its cheaper than therapy). Some fiascos, however, just beg to be immortalized in a post and filed under categories with names that explicitly describe things I should never be allowed near again. And what have we decided I should not allowed near today? Alcohol.
So my mom sends me her famous Christmas fruitcake recipe and tells me to soak the dried fruit in brandy for ‘a little bit’. Easy, except that ‘a little bit’ could mean anything. For example, while it may mean half and hour to her, it could also mean a day or so to me. Can you see where this is going?
If you can’t, I’ll spell it out for you: my raisins hit the sauce big time.
Even worse, they are now refusing to give up the brandy they so readily soaked up, putting the bar tally at about a litre of booze short and my cake batter in serious jeopardy. This is clearly going to go either of two ways: One, the liquored-up batter will ignite in the oven and burn down my apartment. Two, I might end up with the best cakes ever and even be able to sell them on the street as the Christmas equivalent of special brownies.
I’ll update with the results when I’m done baking, though I hope the sound of fire trucks in the middle of the night won’t give anything away.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Clearly, the Start of an Extremely Merry Christmas
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