2006/12/22 17:52
Christmas at Ground Zero
In the spirit of the season, I decided to make some cookies. And it wouldn't be Christmas if I didn't make bizcochitos. Those of you so inclined to click that kitchen link over there will find my recipe. Who says I never gave you anything?
As you look over my recipe notes, you'll see mention of using a stand mixer. Unfortunately, I don't have one. So yes, the comment about cursing my ancestors comes from direct experience. As I wrestled my hand mixer through the dense mass of dough, willing it to incorporate the last half-cup of flour, the pong of burning electrics assaulted my nostrils. This wasn't a new experience with this mixer, but the orange and yellow sparks shooting from the vent holes in the front definitely was.
It also wouldn't be Christmas without total denial. So I plugged onward, forcing the ever-slowing beaters through the thickening wad of fat, sugar and flour until they ground to a complete halt, wires fizzling in protest. But on the bright side, I got my dough mixed.
Maybe twenty minutes later, I turned the dough out to roll it. As you may know, though, when you work with that much lard it will be loath to exit its mixing bowl. So I flipped the sucker over and begin pounding it on the counter.
The second pound, however, was punctuated by a pair of explosions that vibrated the entire house.
"What the hell did I do?" I screamed, cowering back from the inverted bowl. After all, cookies make humans blow up in a very different sense, and I was fairly sure I hadn't been storing plastic explosive in the cabinet underneath. Going outside didn't solve the conundrum, but a quick Google News search did -- apparently, the space shuttle's landing causes twin sonic booms, and it chose to land at Kennedy just as I dropped the bowl onto the counter.
So maybe that's not the fault of my bizcochitos. Nor, exactly, is the death of my mixer -- it was a five-year-old, ten-dollar impulse purchase that I'd put through hell on previous occasions. Still, I think I'm going to let someone else try them first.
As you look over my recipe notes, you'll see mention of using a stand mixer. Unfortunately, I don't have one. So yes, the comment about cursing my ancestors comes from direct experience. As I wrestled my hand mixer through the dense mass of dough, willing it to incorporate the last half-cup of flour, the pong of burning electrics assaulted my nostrils. This wasn't a new experience with this mixer, but the orange and yellow sparks shooting from the vent holes in the front definitely was.
It also wouldn't be Christmas without total denial. So I plugged onward, forcing the ever-slowing beaters through the thickening wad of fat, sugar and flour until they ground to a complete halt, wires fizzling in protest. But on the bright side, I got my dough mixed.
Maybe twenty minutes later, I turned the dough out to roll it. As you may know, though, when you work with that much lard it will be loath to exit its mixing bowl. So I flipped the sucker over and begin pounding it on the counter.
The second pound, however, was punctuated by a pair of explosions that vibrated the entire house.
"What the hell did I do?" I screamed, cowering back from the inverted bowl. After all, cookies make humans blow up in a very different sense, and I was fairly sure I hadn't been storing plastic explosive in the cabinet underneath. Going outside didn't solve the conundrum, but a quick Google News search did -- apparently, the space shuttle's landing causes twin sonic booms, and it chose to land at Kennedy just as I dropped the bowl onto the counter.
So maybe that's not the fault of my bizcochitos. Nor, exactly, is the death of my mixer -- it was a five-year-old, ten-dollar impulse purchase that I'd put through hell on previous occasions. Still, I think I'm going to let someone else try them first.
That story is hilarious. It reminds me of the little old librarian guy in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade with the stamps.
That's so funny... I had a similar experience when the shuttle landed in Palmdale earlier this year. It was close to 5 AM and I had just got out of the shower. I thought it was an earthquake or my neighbor slamming their door. Regardless, it all seemed odd, until I turned on the news and saw that the shuttle had just landed near us.
I do miss my mother's standing mixer. She has two of those heavy duty, built-to-survive-a-nuclear-blast mixers from, like, the 50s or 60s. Still works like a dream, too.
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