My ingredient lists are not extremely elaborate. I moonlight with goat cheese frequently but I also see no shame in opening up a can of Hunt's tomatoes. I make fine use of Greek yogurt as substitutes for sour cream and such but I also shake on the Kraft powdered parmesean like nobody's business. I also have no holds barred when it comes to the use of the "b" word. Butter that is. I mean, I like it so much I learned to make my own! I've also been known a time or three to use the "c" word as well. Cream, heavy, high fat cream. So, no, most of my recipe repertoire is not light and health but you can usually rest assured it will be GOOD!
Yesterday I felt a bit of voodoo cast upon me as I managed to burn not one but 2, yes 2 Pillsbury crescent crusts for the veggie pizza I was making for Bible study. Now, it was in the midst of bedtime routine and I personally will no longer suggest cooking anything during that process as it requires all of your attention and more. At 9 pm when the second one was toast. Burned toast. I resigned to hitting up publix at 7am after my morning run. The rest of the veggie pizza went off without any fingers chopped or burning episodes. Luckily most of the chopping had been completed before the voodoo struck.
This afternoon, I decided to make a toasted flat bread type veggie pizza for after school snack. Lincoln was quietly napping and I popped 2 flat outs in the oven and plopped down in front of the ol' computer to zone out and enjoy my peace and quiet. A moment later I see the oven flash a bright white and then turn to flickering red and yellow while making a terrible popping sound. It was frightening to say the least. I actually heard myself yell " No, no, Stop, stop, Stop!" to the oven, as if it should obey me. I had the flash thoughts of if I was going to grab water to throw on it or run upstairs for my sleeping baby and yell screaming to the neighbors house. Both were unpleasant and the oven seemed to have calmed. I turned it off and opened the door to find a bit of smoke and nothing else suspicious. There was a fine powder substance all over the inside so I knew the flat bread was toast (as in unfit to eat.) No sooner did I pick up the cell phone to call Jason in a full panic, the fire alarms start going off because of the smoke. Did I mention I had a chatty 2 year old ASLEEP upstairs? So I'm flinging the doors open, breathlessly reliving the nightmare to Jason on the phone while fanning the smoke detectors to shush and allow my baby to sleep and me to
Here's hoping for better days and fireproof ovens.
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