I say this because even though I will be blogging about food today, this will not be a food blog. There will not be pictures of sexy looking pancakes with syrup being suggestively poured on them.*
There will also not be an attached recipe or a story of how one can make a conventionally “successful” batch of cookies. There will be pancakes, however. And cookies. But instead they will be shot unprofessionally with a malfunctioning iPhone. (In defense of the iPhone, I dropped it on its head when it was less than a year old. I probably shouldn’t get into it here, or Apple Protective Services might take it away from me.)
This will be like a food blog, however, in that I will write an anecdotal story about the cookies which most of you will probably skip in order to look at the pictures. It’s alright, I get it. You’ve had a busy day. You deserve to look at pictures of cookies instead of reading about them. But I’m going to tell the story anyway just in case.
This weekend, my roommate Aude’s family came to hang out for a night and then take her off to her aunt’s house for the weekend. Her mom and dad and brother came, and just as a side note I love her dad because he actually mistook me for a French person for a full five minutes. It was probably the highlight of my French speaking career, even though Aude just said it’s because he’s out of it sometimes. I pretended not to hear this in order to save Kristina’s fragile alter-ego from crumbling.
Anyway, her dad made it his mission to make our apartment more comfortable, which I of course have no qualms with because he bought us a mini-oven!
This mini oven is awesome because we have an oven in the apartment, but the door is always a little bit ajar so we never actually tried to turn it on. Then when we did try to turn it on, Aude was squealing the entire time because she was afraid it would blow up and the whole kitchen smelled like there had been a gas leak. Which is why the mini oven is awesome.
The day Aude came back we decided to christen the mini-oven by making chocolate chip cookies. Aude bought several rich bars of chocolate which we threw in the blender, and then we mixed a bunch of butter, sugar, more sugar, and everything else that is sinful and delicious into a bowl. Once we had mixed everything, we realized that we forgot to add the flour. And once we added the flour, the cookie dough was completely dry.
So Aude added some water to it. Though maybe perhaps a little too much water. After the cookies were in the oven for about 10 minutes, the bottoms started to burn. We took them out and tried to put them on the cooling rack, except they were still a little too moist so they kind of bent around the rack.
Aude thought the cookies weren’t able to cool off rapidly enough in our warm kitchen, so she insisted on taking the cookies to dry in the bathroom.
In her defense, that’s where we dry our clothes because we don’t have a dryer here. That being said, I didn’t really want to eat bathroom cookies, and then she dropped two of those cookies on the bathroom floor while trying to put the rack in a high up place. Mmm, delicious! Nothing says dessert time like bathroom cookies. At least they’re bathroom cookies in France though, so that makes them a little fancier than just plain old American bathroom cookies, amirite?
Oh yeah, and I know I promised there would be amateur pictures of pancakes I made. So here they are.
*(Note to Dad: may not want to send this blog to Grandma.)