I learned the grossest lesson today while I was all up to my fucking ears in holiday baking:
Never crack eggs right into your recipe. Crack them into another bowl first, then drop them into your recipe.
Why dirty another bowl?
Why take the extra step when you're known for being a lazy short cut taker?
Because you may just drop a rotten egg right into your spinning bread dough and then have to watch (and smell) helplessly while its dark rank evil swirls ever deeper into your dough, ruining it forever.
|No challahs were harmed in the making of this recipe.|
And then you have to do two completely distasteful things:
- Start over. There's no saving anything that's seen the likes of a rotten egg.
- Waste everything that's gone into your recipe already.
|This is no place for rotten eggs.|
There's just nothing good about that scenario, so now I will always crack all eggs into a small bowl first, to test their potential rottenness, and then I will either PLOOP them into the mixer or SPLACH them into the garbage disposal with a lemon rind and run the thing for a solid five minutes.
|And then I will bake a batch of mini challahs that turned out not exactly "mini".|
Then I may or may not light a match and blame the dog, but you know, every time can be different. That's the fun of my kitchen.
That, and coming into contact with a smell so hideous it can only be equated to a freshly shat coil of decomposing hellfire.
|This, however, smelled heavenly. And nothing like hellfire or rotten shatting.|
Specifically, another batch of mini challahs that aren't actually mini and a truckload of mini coffee cakes that are actually mini.
|I love these mini loaf pans with plastic lids for JUST this reason: stackability.|
Then experience Nose Joy that has nothing to do with coke or huffing glue.
Not that I'd know about that kind of joy. It's not my thing.
If one could ingest gin through one's nose, though, that'd be another story.
But enough about my fine collection of illicit hobbies - I made more stuff:
|Remember the lip balm thing? They look more profesh now. Also, they're not hard as a rock. Hooray.|
|In all honesty, I made these over the summer when blackberries were in season. Oh summertime...I miss thee.|
And then, I made some more stuff from the stuff I made.
Sort of like standing between two mirrors except this was more work.
|By this point in the holiday gift gathering, "JOY" is the last thing on my mind.|
|Unless it's the JOY from being FUCKING DONE ALREADY GAH.|
|I can't wait to ship you away from my house.|
The ones on their lawns, people. Not the ones in their living rooms. BUT OH MY GAH WHAT IF SHE DID THAT WOULD BE AWESOME.
But no. I wouldn't let her. That would be wrong.
And, anyway, I pick up the dumps she leaves by their lawn Christmas trees, so they probably know I love them.
Well, except for these people:
|Bet this thing has 3 digit capability. Asses.|
We'll try again though.
Meanwhile, holiday baking is done, the house smells like a bakery and it's cocktail time.
Don't forget - DO NOT CRACK EGGS RIGHT INTO YOUR RECIPES. Or, you know, rotten hellfire shits and such.