(Despite the clock on the oven, it was not 11:25 when I was cooking this. We are not nocturnal. It's just that the power goes out here so often that we've given up resetting the clocks.)
I pressed on and when Matt walked in the door after work the house smelled fantastic. I was on the edge of my seat as he took his first bite. "This is delicious," he said. "In fact, it tastes just like my grandmother's."
Well, HOT DOG. This culinary success could not have come at a better time because I am currently angling for an early retirement so that I can become a stay at home wife. So far Matt isn't on board with that plan because we want to buy a house someday and will therefore need a pesky down payment, but imagine GOURMET DINNERS EVERYDAY.
Also, I needed to redeem myself from a very unfortunate kitchen incident that occurred a few weeks ago, that I will now explain in great detail.
We had a family event to go to at Matt's parents' house, and we were in charge of dessert. I decided to make a pound cake, because they are delicious but simple to make.
Or so I thought.
The party was at noon so I woke up early to start baking. I was just about to pour the batter into the pan, but before I did, I added some chocolate chips to jazz things up.
And by some, I mean an entire bag.
Listen, I blame the spontaneous artistic license on my Kitchen Aid mixer. I put that thing out on the counter and suddenly I fancy myself a gourmet pastry chef who can alter recipes on a whim.
I dumped the chocolate chips in, gave everything a good stir, plopped it in the oven, and asked Matt to take it out when the timer beeped as I headed for the shower.
This is where things went south.
When I got out of the shower, Matt reported that the center of the cake had not cooked one bit, so he put it in for another five minutes. Well, I checked that cake every five minutes for the next half hour, until the outer edges were completely burnt and the middle was still completely liquid.
I threw the pan onto the stove top, slammed the oven shut, and went into the living room to ask Matt if he could go to the grocery store and buy some premade cookie dough so we didn't show up to the party empty handed.
There may or may not have been tears accompanying the request. I've never seen him leave the house faster.
He returned a short time later with four packages of cookie dough and got to work slicing and baking. I finished drying my hair (a girl's gotta primp) and walked out of the bedroom to see the kitchen counters covered in cooling cookies, and Matt on the patio, grilling my pound cake.
He still had hope that he could save it.
When he accepted that it really was a goner, he brought it inside to throw away. As he dumped it out of the pan, he said, "Lady...did the recipe call for these chocolate chips?"
"No," I said, "I added them myself to make it a little jazzier."
"Okay," he said as slowly turned the pan over. "How many did you add?"
"The whole bag!"
"You can't just add a whole pound of chocolate chips to a cake with such a light batter. The chips probably all sunk to the bottom which means that this thing would never fully cook."
Sure enough, upon further inspection of the ill-fated pound cake, that's exactly what had happened.
Also, wow, that's a lot of chocolate chips.
We packed up the cookies and went on our way to the party, and as we walked in I said, "Okay Matt, don't tell A SOUL about the pound cake incident."
"It never happened," he responded.
Not only does Matt's family consist of great cooks who love good food, his uncle is a PROFESSIONAL BAKER.
I'd never live it down.
When dessert time came around, people flocked to the cookies. They were a total hit. And then, they started asking who made the cookies. When they found out it was us, they started coming up to us REQUESTING OUR RECIPE.
I hated to tell people that they were premade cookies because SHOW SOME EFFORT, SISTER, so finally, after the third request, I said, "Okay, fine. I have to come clean about something."
I looked at Matt across the table and his eyes widened. He couldn't believe I was going to do it.
And then I admitted to everyone about my culinary crisis and the reason we brought premade cookies.
And oh, the story made their day. They thought it was hilarious.
That's me, impressing the in-laws since 2014.
As it turns out, we are spending Thanksgiving with the same folks, and they've already requested that we bring our famous cookies.
But maybe this time I'll bring my stuffed peppers too.