A few years ago, when my apartment was remodeled, a brand-new oven was installed in my kitchen. But I never used it once. Cooking wasn’t really for me. Whenever I had a woman over, I just poured us each a bowl of cereal really romantically.
But that changed recently. I started thinking about learning to cook. Or at least bake. So I bought cooking-ware and ingredients, took the battery out of my smoke detector and dove in. Yesterday was my first project: buttery, soft pretzels.
The result. My twisting skills improved as I went along. They’re so buttery good. I brushed a little unsweetened, evaporated milk onto them as I took them out of the oven to give them some shine. I ate half the pretzels last night.
Now I choose the next recipe, and try to increase my skills. In the meantime, I’m really happy with first at-bat.
Some people call it baking. I call it “making love”.
