One more time with enthusiasm

Now that the holidays are over and our traveling is finished, I feel like I finally have time for Christmas. The cooking and baking and crafting, the things I typically enjoy during the season, passed like a blur as they were pressed between social engagements and entertaining. But the dust has settled, albeit over a pile of rubble and decoration debris, and I finally have the time to thoroughly enjoy some holiday baking.

I know that I alluded to it in an earlier post, but my time in the kitchen over Christmas was a comedy of errors. One thing after another went wrong in a way that has never happened before. I can only attribute it to keeping track of a toddler and three dogs and a house full of guests. Or maybe I'm simply losing my marbles. (That could totally happen, people.) So over the next couple weeks, I will be re-baking/re-cooking the dishes that went wrong. Never let it be said that I let a recipe beat me. I will triumph! Eventually... Today's culprit is my refrigerator cinnamon rolls.

Even though we have a family recipe that is very hardy and reminds me sweetly of my Grandma, I make these cinnamon rolls (a recipe I found online) every Christmas Eve. They slowly rise overnight in the refrigerator, and then I bake them early on Christmas morning. They have never failed me until this year, but it was probably human error that caused the issue, not the recipe itself.

On Christmas Eve I had few baking things to do. First item was to assemble the cinnamon rolls and get them in the fridge, assemble the breakfast casserole, and finally, make pie dough and pre-bake it for my father's mincemeat pie. While this was going on in the kitchen, I was also orchestrating bringing down presents and filling stockings. This had to be done after Little Bear had gone to bed, not because we wanted her to think they appeared by magic but because of her natural bear instincts. If the bear saw a package, she immediately rassled it open regardless of who it was for. Last year she only managed to lie on them which still tore paper and gave everything a slightly smooshed look. This year, with her nimble fingers and advanced problem-solving skills, she was a force to be reckoned with.

Imagine it...people milling with the dogs dashing between them, activity upstairs and down, presents piling, stockings stuffed...and me in the kitchen without focus. (We all see where this is going, don't we?) I put my mom in charge of mixing the roll dough although I got the yeast started in the bowl. Or so I thought. Later, when the dough lay in its bowl refusing to rise, the accusations began. (Not that I would ever accuse my dear mama of anything other than being sweet and all that's good in the world.) Did you kill the yeast? I asked my mother. Did you remember to add the yeast in the first place? she retorted. Of course! I said. But did I really? I thought I remembered cutting open the packet of yeast and pouring it into the bowl. Or did I only think about it. One thing was certain, the roll dough was not going to rise and if I wanted to serve something other than small rocks, I had to go to Plan B.

Plan B was my mother-in-law's dish, Barb's Breakfast Casserole. It's simple to put together, tastes frickticulously good, and looks glorious while baking in your oven. Especially in the early hours when your eyes are still squinty from sleep and your tummy is rumbling. I quickly whisked up the filling, started tearing the bread into pieces, and brought out the cheese. But wait. I forgot to buy sausage.

I FORGOT THE SAUSAGE! (And I started saying some very choice words here. All rated G because of Little Bear of course. "Holy Carp!" was repeated several times.)

My mother, recognizing the signs of a nervous breakdown (she's a professional, you know), quickly suggested substituting the bacon she had brought from PA. I don't think there's anything finer than bacon from the Prince of Pigs (we dubbed him that when he helped us with buying a crown roast) but the bacon got a little lost in the casserole. Not to mention the fact that there was very little of it left after breakfast the day before. Little Bear ate three whole pieces herself. But we had to make do, and there was one remaining item on my list. I had one last shot at baking redemption.

For those of you with pie dough skill, you can just skip this painful paragraph and go about your business with the confidence that you can make pie dough any 'ol time. For the rest of you...

When it came to the point where the mixture should look like coarse sand, well, mine looked like a piece of swamp property that maybe I had purchased from a sketchy looking feller named T-bone from down the road a piece. It was a freaking disaster, and my vocabulary deteriorated at an alarming rate. Maybe if I had wanted to bake up a batch of quicksand it would have suited. Quicksand with wild pigs running riot over the crust. *groan* Excuse me, I'm in the midst of a shame spiral.

OK, I'm alright now. After the pie crust failed, the casserole marched decidedly into the sunset of mediocrity, and the cinnamon rolls morphed into something a chain gang would strike with picks, I hung up my apron. There was still time for a Christmas miracle, but I doubted it would happen in my kitchen. Instead I cracked open a beer and went to put my feet up, counting heavily upon my family's sense of humor to see me through the following meal.

You saw the pictures above, right? Gorgeous cinnamon rolls, right? Oh yes, I got the better of that recipe. I remembered the yeast and didn't kill it and everything. In fact, they're just a tad underdone so that they're soft and doughy on the inside with just the right amount of sticky, brown sugar sweetness. I could do without the raisins, but I had the filling leftover from the first time around when I was thinking of others in the Christmas way.

This was Little Bear's first taste of cinnamon rolls too. I think they passed muster.

Comments

[Rebecca]

You know, I am absolutely incapable of cooking and talking at the same time.

All the magazine articles tell us (with annoying self-satisfaction) that Mr. and Mrs. Fancy New Kitchen just LOVE to entertain and the kitchen is the Heart Of Their Home. All their guests gather 'round and pitch in when it comes time to make the four course dinner.

Maybe so, Mr. and Mrs. F.N.K., but for me that way lies madness. Forgotten yeast is just the beginning....

[PartyMom]

Oh, the cooking and baking disasters! You'll probably be seeing a few of those coming up since the Husband's mother just gave me a magazine with an 'Americanized' (read: cups/tbsp/tsp vice mgs) recipe for French macarons...mmmmm.

And on to the never-ending pie crust discussion-it looks like I now need to learn to do home-made pie dough. I thought I'd be all snazzy and get a pretty stoneware pie dish. Well, the store-bought crust doesn't fit! If you have any tips, please post, and I will dutifully follow!