It wasn't too long ago that I said I'd given-up on baking. From then, I had let my baking utensils collect dust (as well as things can collect dust being stuck in a kitchen drawer anyway), and even looked a bit sadly at the silicon muffin tray of mine when I put it into a new drawer with my move back into the city; remembering through a sepia memory flashback of an era long gone.
But this week, hug nazi announced that she was going to the Carols by Candlelight this year, and unable to find anybody else to come with or bring their own baking to complement the scones she was going to bring to it, I thought I'd rise to the occasion. This meant baking...
After a trip to the supermarket for baking ingredients and a trip to a department store for mixing bowls (and a colander I found-out I didn't have when I went to drain the pasta I made last night for dinner; it was a very LOL moment), I arrived at my place with all I needed to make quite possibly the most basic baking recipe I know to do: chocolate chip cookies.
My mum has been baking chocolate chip cookies for the family since the dawn of time, and I didn't need the instructions to put it all together; my visual memory of having watched her make them a million times and my muscle memory from my baking days took over. It didn't take long, or much effort, and within minutes, before the slower thinking part of my mind had the time to catch-up to what was happening in the kitchen, I had 28 chocolate chip cookies sitting in the oven.
So I should renege on my earlier blog post: when I said that I'd given-up on baking, I should've really said that I'd no longer have myself compete against the amazing cakes/treats/gingerbread-houses that everybody else around me seems to be able to pull-off. I'll just stick to what I know and can do, which in this case means going back on silly promises I made, and accompanying a friend to an event, so that she's not all on her lonesome.