Skip navigation

I felt sort of bad about not having a beer blog post to put up today, what with racial stereotypes for the Irish being what they are… hilarious. The reason in short for this is early morning business that can’t be put off tomorrow, and in the interest of not having shit fuck up, I’ve decided to not drink today. It’s a sad turn of events for anyone that loves beer as much as I.

What I could post was a brief recap of my first attempt at baking in a good long time after the (*shudder*) incident.

My father is encouraging up to the point of feigning death.

Construction of biscuits are as follows.
ACT 1
– Neglect sleep until 6:30am
– Decide to remedy hunger with something different
– Fail to find reasonable/reputable source of recipes for poorly-educated bachelors
– Find cookbook from a bygone era with nothing resembling a cover
– Flip though parchment looking for simplest recipe
– Squeeze out the last of the tea from last evening’s pot in desperation for caffeine
– Settle for biscuits.

ACT 2
– Pour flour, salt, baking powder and sugar into bowl
– Realize after mixing that your house doesn’t have any baking soda left
– Blend in lard and add 2 cups of milk as the recipe calls for
– Notice the recipe is totally full of shit, and that’s way too much milk for the ratio of dry goods
– Angst over your bowl of sludge
– Pound that bitter tea back without milk or sugar like a boss
– Abandon mixing spoon in favour of hands
– Forget to oil/grease hands before plunging in
– Find that your sludge is sticking to your hands now, such that it’s impossible to scrape off
– Regret not sleeping
– Frown and consider tears as a course of action

ACT 3
– Man the fuck up
– Get that goddamn flour back
– Dump more flour in
– No, dumbass, that’s not nearly enough
– Dump a lot more flour in
– Gradually unglue your hands from the vitriolic bowl of semi-alive dough
– Put on another pot of tea
– Rip and tear that shit into balls about so big (this size should be self evident)
– Flatten on cookie sheets
– Splash some fucking green colouring onto your mutant lumps; smear
– NOW! INTO THE FIRES OF HELL WITH YEE!

ACT 4
– Fucking burn some of them because your dumb ass wanted to go back to listening to podcasts.
– Salvage the morning with a plate of delicious and manly biscuits
– Tell wordpress

This is my baking. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: