So this weekend Emma and I thought we would venture into the world of cooking. It was hesitant, sort of like when you get to the beach and you dip your toe in the cold water, pull it out and then tentatively stick it back in again to see if it got any warmer while you were deliberating.
We went to the shops and got all the ingredients for Nigella’s triple choc chip double dip fancy pants cookies, which should be marketed as a baked heart attack. We hit the baking aisle with aplomb, selecting raisins, chocolate chips and a big slab of cooking chocolate, plus eggs and vanilla essence, and took them home to prepare. (we did make a detour to the ice-cream aisle, after all, we needed something to go with them, didn’t we!!)
We went home, and realised that the oven wasn’t working. We fiddled about with it, utterly bemused as I had roasted a chicken that morning ( I can cook people, just not sweet delights) and after ten minutes of turning it on and off at the wall and nothing happening, we called a grown up.
Apparently it couldn’t be fixed, so we braved on, made the mixture and took it round to the mother ships to see if we could use her oven. We laid the cookies out on the tray, and put them in, hardly being able to wait for our culinary delights to cook.
When we went down again, there was an unfamiliar smell of cheese on toast. What had happened?
The short answer is…. there was a small fire.
Basically what had happened was the baking paper had been hanging over the edge of the tray, and had set alight on the gas fire (so used to using electric ovens, I had not thought this through). I do have a confession to make though, I think that I had perhaps forgotten to turn the gas down when I had been lighting the flame. The cookies were black as night, and the windows had to be opened to assuage the smell of burning through the downstairs rooms of the house.
Maybe we will try again next week.
(Cartoon from Natalie Dee , where some of the funniest cartoons are born)