I posted this picture yesterday on social media and got lots of laughs and (rightfully so) quite a few follow-up questions. I would like to explain. First, that's my trash can, and my mixer, and an allegedly "easy" cookie dough recipe. Next, the irony is not lost on me that the magazine headline reads "Peace on Earth." I regret nothing, except feeling the pressure to bake to begin with. What was I thinking?
Inexplicably, some people enjoy baking. Despite the mess it makes, the tediousness, and how time consuming it is, there are people who seem otherwise sane who tell me they find baking relaxing. I am not one of those people. I don't mind cooking, but I hate, loathe, despise, and abominate baking. As such, I refuse to spend money on the tools one needs to get the baking job done. For many years now, I have openly scoffed at those expensive KitchenAid mixers everyone has and assured myself that since I only bake on the rarest of occasions, my bottom-of-the-line Sunbeam mixer and some elbow grease can get the job done.
December's Southern Living was chock-full of recipes and pictures of beautiful baked goods. I became convinced that cakes and confections were a cornerstone of the holiday season. Surely my Christmas could not be complete until I baked something! I chose a recipe for something called "Santa's Kitchen Sink Cookies," promising to be fun and easy for even the kids (ha!), although the cynic in me was alerted when the recipe called for two types of flour and a special flake sea salt I had to procure from the internet. Still, Christmas baking would commence. Oh, what fun! Right?
I turned on some carols and lit up the tree, and blew the dust off my trusty mixer. I needed to make that "easy' dough because it required a minimum of an hour chill time before it could be baked. Fun! I measured and scooped and spooned and poured. The brown sugar clumped and refused to mix in; I stirred and whisked and used a pastry cutter. The recipe began by stating "using a mixer fitted with a paddle attachment...." and I swear to you I actually had the hubris to say OUT LOUD " I am the paddle attachment" as I tried to manually use a rubber spatula to make this dough come together. It refused. Fun!
I was sweaty and tired and there were tiny bits of dough all over my previously clean kitchen. The brown sugar was reduced to pieces the size of green garden peas but it did not resemble anything that I would want to bake, much less eat. I surveyed the red and green M&Ms that I had searched three stores to find still waiting to be added and realized we would never reach that step. My special internet sea salt was waiting on the counter for a crowning moment that would never come. And then I had a sort of Christmas epiphany: you know what they had at the first Christmas? I remember reading about gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but I didn't hear jack squat about any homemade cookies That's right, it was a Christmas miracle of miracles and there wasn't a baked good in sight! And I don't need any either.
I grabbed that Sunbeam and that concrete dough ball and marched the whole mess out to the trash, including the blame magazine that started it all. I never felt so free. I came inside and cleaned up my kitchen and restored it to its beautifully clean, decorated Christmas glory and stood over the sink eating a store bought Oreo cookie in defiance.
Yesterday was a learning day and I walked away with three valuable lessons. First, if you're going to do something, make sure you have the tools for the job. As much as it pains me, I'm going out and buying a KitchenAid mixer today, paddle attachment and all. I may never love to bake, but if the need does arise at least I will be able to do so without destroying my sanity and/or my kitchen. Second, Christmas isn't about cookies. If you get a package of white fudge covered Oreos from me in lieu of homemade goodies this year, you'll know why (and know better than to ask questions). And last: if you see the word "easy" used to describe a recipe, just go ahead and know that it will undoubtedly test your sanity, your Christianity, and your use of profanity. Easy is in the eye of the beholder, y'all.
