Random Dessert
I really wanted to make cookies this afternoon, but Dad, who was standing right there, pouted and moaned because he's not supposed to have chocolate (he hasn't been allowed to have caffeine for a while now, 'cause it makes the chemo less effective or something). And digging through Mum's freezer, I found a container of cream cheese icing that I had leftover after the ill-fated chocolate-carrot cupcake experiment. "Ah!" I thought, looking around Mum's pretty new kitchen with the big wood-topped island, "here's a good time to try and make cinnamon buns!
And so I did.
After I made the damned things (I always forget just how long yeasted dough takes, if only for the billion years of rising - okay, eighty minutes, but still), I of course was seized with the need to pull out the camera, which I'd brought to take pictures of the new kitchen stuff anyway:
The recipe I used was pretty much completely wrong in terms of baking time. It said half an hour, but I smelled them burning after about thirteen minutes. So I had to cut off the bottoms, give them a coat of syrup, and then bake them a bit longer just so the bottoms weren't all spongy and... naked. Tasted good, though.
The new island:
New table and shelf as well. We were all thoroughly sick of the Great Evil cabinet that used to house the computer.
Mum spent all day in the yard, sort of scraping Winter off of things.
'Hm,' thinks Chowder, 'I wonder if I can con them out of a whole one...'
No cinnamon bun for Chowder. Woe is Chowder. (They got all the burnt bottoms, though, and didn't seem to mind that...)
One more on the island-top, just for prettiness' sake:
And so I did.
After I made the damned things (I always forget just how long yeasted dough takes, if only for the billion years of rising - okay, eighty minutes, but still), I of course was seized with the need to pull out the camera, which I'd brought to take pictures of the new kitchen stuff anyway:
The recipe I used was pretty much completely wrong in terms of baking time. It said half an hour, but I smelled them burning after about thirteen minutes. So I had to cut off the bottoms, give them a coat of syrup, and then bake them a bit longer just so the bottoms weren't all spongy and... naked. Tasted good, though.
The new island:
New table and shelf as well. We were all thoroughly sick of the Great Evil cabinet that used to house the computer.
Mum spent all day in the yard, sort of scraping Winter off of things.
'Hm,' thinks Chowder, 'I wonder if I can con them out of a whole one...'
No cinnamon bun for Chowder. Woe is Chowder. (They got all the burnt bottoms, though, and didn't seem to mind that...)
One more on the island-top, just for prettiness' sake: