Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The Dog Ate My Cookbook (and Other Excuses for Not Baking)
I really intended to do the Summer Fruit Galette TWD assignment this week (selected by Michelle in Colorado Springs). Honestly, I did. Not like last week, when I pretended to be disappointed that my social schedule and rhubarbaphobia kept me on the sidelines.
As soon as I saw galettes described as "rustic," I was committed. In my mind, when you call something "rustic," you may as well be saying, "If it's tidy, you're doing it wrong." In other words -- my kind of activity.
But then a large box of tomatoes appeared on my carport courtesy of the Saint (aka Mom) that had to be canned. So by mid-afternoon Saturday, I had exhausted my culinary attention span (but I had 8 1/2 quarts of tomatoes to show for it).
Oh, the carnage... after all the peeling and smushing required to prepare the tomatoes, my kitchen looked like the beach from the opening scene of Saving Private Ryan.
Also, the Golden Spouse got me a "Studio in a Box" set, complete with halogen lights and backdrops, so I can get sucked further into the seedy world of food porn.
I call this shot "Tomatoes Noir." All I need is Fred McMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, and an ankle bracelet to complete the recipe for a dark vegetable narrative to make even Michael Pollan shiver.
After losing my Saturday to canning tomatoes and drying figs (that's another post altogether), the galette was postponed to Sunday. "I have all the stuff," I reasoned. "I'll just go for a nice bike ride in the morning, which will give me the energy to bake in the afternoon."
But the "nice bike ride" ended up being 17 miles in 95 degree heat and included this:
Sunday afternoon became all about lying on the couch, whimpering.
This weekend, I shall attempt to execute a flawless TWD double forward flip and produce not only the Summer Fruit Galette, but also next week's Black and White Banana Loaf. Here's hoping I can stick the landing.
(Okay, so the dog had nothing to do with it. But isn't he cute?)