Nate has started a new tradition of baking something with the girls every Sunday. He usually does a pretty good job, and the girls have a great time. He's even teaching them to do things like crack open eggs.
Today I was really tired after church and I decided to take a nap. I slept like the dead for almost three hours. At one point I vaguely remember hearing the girls running around and shrieking, but I couldn't make my body move, so I went back to sleep. The upshot of this was, I wasn't available when Nate had questions.
I'd suggested that he make banana bread today, since we had several very ripe bananas, and I wanted something to take to a friend as a thank you. Nate found a recipe in a little notebook I used in Germany. I'd add recipes as I found ones that I liked or needed, so they were all hand-written. The oven temperature was also in Celcius, since that's what they all run on in Germany. Unfortunately, Nate didn't know that. I woke up after the bread had been in the oven for about 30 minutes. I cracked the oven open to check on it, and was surprised that it wasn't very hot. At first I worried that the oven was broken or something, but then I checked the oven setting and found that it was only at 175 degrees. It didn't take me long to realize what had happened, and I changed the temperature
, but the damage was done. By the time the inside was all cooked, the outside was a little brown. I thought it would still be okay for us to eat, I just decided that I wouldn't take it to anyone. After it had cooled, I cut a piece and took a bite, and promptly spit it out. Nate wasn't home at the time, he'd gone out to a meeting, but when he came home, he asked me what I thought of the bread. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I said, "Oh, it's alright." He said, "I think it's nasty, and I'm not eating any more of it." I was relieved, because I could then throw it away without bothering him. It turns out that when he was reading the recipe, he didn't know what the little "t" behind some of the measurements was. He flipped through my little book, and in other places, I'd written "tsp", so he decided the "t" meant tablespoon, or else I'd have written "tsp", right? I just wasn't consistent in the way I'd written out recipes, and he didn't know that a little "t" is always teaspoon and a big "T" is always tablespoon. So instead of two teaspoons of baking powder, he put two tablespoons, and the same went for the teaspoon of cinnamon and 1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg. I think it was the baking powder that really killed it, though. Oh well, lesson learned for next time.
, but the damage was done. By the time the inside was all cooked, the outside was a little brown. I thought it would still be okay for us to eat, I just decided that I wouldn't take it to anyone. After it had cooled, I cut a piece and took a bite, and promptly spit it out. Nate wasn't home at the time, he'd gone out to a meeting, but when he came home, he asked me what I thought of the bread. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, I said, "Oh, it's alright." He said, "I think it's nasty, and I'm not eating any more of it." I was relieved, because I could then throw it away without bothering him. It turns out that when he was reading the recipe, he didn't know what the little "t" behind some of the measurements was. He flipped through my little book, and in other places, I'd written "tsp", so he decided the "t" meant tablespoon, or else I'd have written "tsp", right? I just wasn't consistent in the way I'd written out recipes, and he didn't know that a little "t" is always teaspoon and a big "T" is always tablespoon. So instead of two teaspoons of baking powder, he put two tablespoons, and the same went for the teaspoon of cinnamon and 1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg. I think it was the baking powder that really killed it, though. Oh well, lesson learned for next time.
No comments:
Post a Comment