the horizon of deliciousness

I'm one of those unfortunate people who loves to cook and bake but isn't particularly good at doing it.

Still, the urge to take on the kitchen occasionally strikes, and I momentarily forget things like the time I knocked some napkins into the stove top and set them on fire, or the time I broke my mother's electric mixer while making fudge, or the time I mixed up the measurements for baking soda and baking powder. Instead, all I see ahead of me is a horizon of delicious flavor that will be bestowed upon the world by my own two hands. So this weekend, I enlisted the help of my dear sister, Rachel, and we set off into the land of baking.

Baking is serious business.

Armed with the necessary ingredients and cooking utensils, we followed the recipe here to create tasty cookie dough bars. And, I must say, I impressed myself from the very beginning by browning butter for the first time and doing it successfully. Oh yeah, I thought. Look at me, world. Baking like a boss. The kitchen can't even handle me right now.

We continued to follow the directions carefully. It was a beautiful sisterly bonding experience. We laughed. We danced. We watched an episode of Monk. Life was good. Life was as sweet as we expected our dessert to be. 

After mixing the ingredients for the cookie dough, we, of course, tasted it.

And it tasted a bit strange.

But surely this was because it wasn't finished, we thought. Besides, it was too late to turn back, so we continued our endeavor.

Looks can be deceiving.

After some time and effort, we finally finished our cookie dough bars. We decorated the top with pretzels and melted chocolate. The finished product looked so incredibly delectable. We called everyone in the house to come down and try our creation. 

"Can I has nom noms, too?!?"

The moment of truth came. Armed with forks and a plate of our creation, we each shoved a bite into our mouths and...

There was a very... distinct... flavor to it. 

The dessert wasn't bad - it was quite tasty, in fact. The shortbread crust turned out perfectly, and the texture of the dough couldn't have been better. But there was a very, very strong flavor. It tasted something like almonds.

The recipe called for vanilla extract.

We used almond extract.

I think the only way I could have made a more embarrassing mistake would be if I were to have mistaken the sugar for salt. Everyone ate appreciatively, but every bite I took, the more our baking adventure felt like a failure.

But look at me! I'm such a responsible adult! How could it have ended this way?

Seriously. I might as well have spiked my dessert with amaretto. 

I'm sure there's some sort of grand lesson to be learned here. Something like pride comes before the fall or sometimes, things don't go the way you planned. Maybe something even more positive, like, it's not the end that matters, but the journey. But, I admit: right now, the truly important thing I have learned is this: pay more attention when adding extracts, you airhead!

Oh well. You win some and you lose some, I suppose. It was a lot of fun nonetheless. Besides, no matter what sort of kitchen trauma Rachel and I may face, we still remain classy.