I know you all think I’m like…an expert baker. Right? Right? Right? Right you think that? On account of all the expertly baked things I make? And the natural grace I exhibit in the kitchen? And all the not-messing-things-up and never-forgetting-ingredients and certainly-never-dropping-anything-or-not-reading-the-entire-recipe-all-the-way-through that goes on around here? Well. The point I’m trying to make is: these things that I do, these goods that I bake, they’re not rocket science. Anyone can bake! Just like Ratatouille taught us! As proof, here’s a guest post by one of my less domestically inclined friends, Vanessa. If she can make a recipe from my blog, anyone can. So, you should. You there. The one I’m pointing at. Yes. With the face. I’m talking about YOU. Aaand take it away, V:
So… I’m not a baker. There’s a line that bisects my mom’s brood of culinary-inclined siblings: you either cook or you bake. All of them know how to do BOTH of course, but for whatever reason, some have chosen to focus on scones while others, foie gras. Marge [ed. note: guest blogger’s mother], as you can guess, falls into the latter category. Apparently, when she and my dad were dating, Marge was quite the baker – her repertoire included eclairs and croissants and any type of cake that would get him to see what a domestic goddess she was whom he should marry (all according to Rick [guest blogger’s father]). But there may be some truth to my dad’s story because for as long as I’ve been around, I’ve never had a single Marge-baked eclair! So, while I feel at home with bolognese and rack of lamb, I’m terrified by all things baked, which is why I’d drooled over – but never made – anything from Kat in the Kitch.
This morning, with about 2 feet of snow blustering into Philly, all that changed. When you share a kitchen with a boy, you NEVER have everything you need to make even the most simple of dishes. However, our kitch has been going through something of a renaissance and to my surprise we had EVERY SINGLE INGREDIENT TO MAKE THE MUFFINS! All stores were closed so I took this as a sign from fate. As you can see from the attached photos… some of us slaved while others of us lazed. I was also reminded of why I could never work in a serious kitchen (aside from lack of talent) because I cannot keep my fingers out of anything I’m cooking. Intermediate stages of readiness always taste best to me. Mmmmm eggs and sugar beaten together? I’m there! Ohhh, is that a little spilled batter? Right down the hatch. Do I see reduced sugar and berries? Oops.. on my pants. I can see it now, some exasperated sous chef screaming at me to keep my hands out of the batter and going on about things called profit margins (your recipe called for 12 muffins… for some odd reason, we only had enough batter to make 10 – I guess part of the reason can be found on my pants…)
At any rate, this was a very successful attempt and has given me a renewed sense of courage when it comes to baking – although let’s be honest. I started with muffins. This is not exactly the piece de resistance of one’s baking repertoire. I only hope my attempt inspires other readers of your website who have delayed in embracing your spirit, hitting the kitchen and attempting the unfamiliar. While fellow readers of Kat in the Kitch may end up with blueberry goop on their white pajama pants that their boyfriends insist on calling skid marks (le sigh), the risks are well worth the reward. After all, they may have to zest some orange into the sugar topping because they only have half a lemon and they may find it tastes delicious. They may overfill their muffin tins, thereby indirectly making their muffins extra top heavy but, as Seinfeld proved when devoting an entire episode to them, muffin tops are the best part anyway! Your readers who have been busy sitting on the sidelines should know… it’s ok to get off and play a few innings, bake a few things, make like a grizzly and put on a few calories for winter. While you, Katrina, have more artistic talent in your pinky than I do in my mangled sculpture of the Reggie Lewis track that I made junior year in high school as part of a mandatory art class where we had to mold out of clay “something that meant a lot to us”… I still was able to take wisdom from your website (no, my life is not in shambles) and come out triumphant like another famous Flipadel – ahem – Philadelphian.
Editor’s final note: Seriously, V? When asked to render something that meant a lot to you, you molded a sculpture of the Reggie Lewis track out of clay? That is crazy. With a capital C and an extra y separated into 2 sentences and 2 E’s instead of the last y: Cray. Zee.
Blueberry muffin recipe can be found HERE.