One of my many goals in creating a lovely home has been to teach HC independence in the kitchen. Her love of baking really is the cherry on top of many a "Home Sweet Home" kind of days, emphasis on the "sweet".
Last night was no exception. After finishing her first week in public school (as a freshman in high school, no less) HC felt her sugar tooth ache and Tedward was beckoning.
Side note: Tedward is the name HC gave my kitchen aid stand mixer.
I was proud to watch her crack a few cookbooks looking for the perfect chocolate chip cookie recipe, and measure everything carefully. It has taken some work to fully comprehend the idea that actually *following* the recipe helps the final product. I was impressed when she softened the rock-hard brown-sugar alone, and after keeping half an eye on her steady progress, I was mildly surprised to have her beckon me over to Tedward's side for a look.
"What do you think?" she asked, a bit hesitant.
I peered into the metal bowl and noted the spatula attachment deep in the thick batter. Very deep.
"Seems like a lot of cookie dough for 12 cookies," I mused, reaching for the package of chocolate chunks. It was completely empty.
Indignant, HC defended herself while I inspected the recipe: "I followed the recipe exactly this time!! I double-checked and everything!"
Apparently, that was the problem.
"HC, did you notice it says 'yield: 6 dozen cookies'?"
By midnight we had chocolate chip cookies coming out the ears!
We'll survive. In fact, they're helping us survive. This morning, several were eaten to calm a threatening nervous breakdown by one member of the family, and I had a couple as sustainance while cleaning the house. Several more were shared during a very serious planning and logistics conversation I had with P, and one or two were consumed with milk by A after he returned from his first experience working out with the other Marine recruits.
So here's the question: is the dwindling pile of chocolaty yumness helping keep chaos at bay, or simply a symptom of the chaos itself?