In the Kitchen with Noony: the glory and the sorrow

I’ve been told that I’m a good cook. I make things that are edible and nourishing and occasionally pleasing to the eye. My abilites are nowhere close to my chef brother though, and I don’t always win in the kitchen. Amongst the most memorable of my kitchen disasters is the time I thought a pastry mat was made of silicone and it melted in the oven. Zero biscuits survived the incident. 

The owner of my company threw an Oprah-style “favorite things” holiday event recently and among these gifts was a KitchenAid mixer, which I have wanted for as long as I can remember. Amazing. Now the pressure is on to make tons of awesome things I never wanted to get involved with before. But don’t mistake me for a culinary nancy – I have cooked plenty of dishes without fancy kitchen gadgetry and have even suffered through whipping cream with a good, old-fashioned wire whisk. I would survive without my fancy mixer. But as long as I have it…

My first experiment was pizza dough. It was quick, easy, and the best part: no messes. I love the dough hook attachment; it is my new BFF. I’m not sure if A- is looking down at me with mild disapproval or congratulations, she who believed in kneading dough by hand and making pasta from scratch, adding that extra bit of love to every dish. She didn’t own anything fancier than a pasta machine but I think she would forgive me out of consideration for my busy schedule.

So about this pizza.  When the dough had risen once, I punched it down and Brian worked it onto the pan. I loaded it up with our favorite ingredients and shoved it into the oven. A short time later, behold! a fresh pie.

I was only able to admire my KitchenAid success for about 2 minutes, long enough to cut it into slices.  As I reached for my phone to take a photo, the pan slid off the edge of the counter.  I caught it between my shirt and the counter but it was hot and I yelped and half the pizza slid (in slow motion) onto the floor.

There was nothing I could do at that point except slump to the floor beside my dearly departed pizza half.  Brian ran into the kitchen to see what had me crying out in agony.  When he realized my howls were not from physical pain, he laughed.  He was kind enough not to complain but I was acutely aware that two slices of pizza (we split the remaining half) was not going to satisfy his appetite.

On a positive note, the mixer has revolutionized my famous Crasian Cornbread.  By using the whip attachment, I was able to incorporate so much air into the eggs and butter.  The result was the fluffiest, moistest version of the original recipe.



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