I have dreams of becoming some combination of Bree Hodge, Julia Child, and Martha Stewart. I want to host the best parties when I serve the most decadent food and the décor is precisely in line with the understated theme of the party.
I’ll serve every Sunday dinner on a perfectly dressed dining room table, complete with candlesticks and wine glasses. Every Saturday morning, I’ll make French toast with hazelnut ganache or Belgian waffles with whipped cream from scratch or eggs Benedict or anything else equally as delectable. I’ll bake up the most amazing treats for any holiday you can think of, beginning with Christmas, of course, when I’ll master the art of my grandmother’s cookies and desserts. My cakes and pies will be perfection (I’m going to start with a lattice-topped apple pie…nom nom nom). And on top of all that, I’ll have a well-stocked bar for which I’ll be the most informed bar tender I can possibly be.
I already have my perfect kitchen apron, complete with pockets and ruffles. I have my KitchenAid stand mixer which, I believe, completes any kitchen. My collection of knives and other kitchen essentials is expansive. Non-stick bakeware with coordinating non-stick liners, check. Heavy-duty Teflon cookware, check. Cooling racks, check. Marble rolling pin, check. Stockpiles of cookbooks, check.
All I really need now is….nothing, I guess. Time, maybe. But I can always find time for baking! Cooking is another story and I’ll be making time for that in the very near future. I’ve always been a better baker than cook though I’m making significant strides in that arena. I do, after all, want to be the best.
I’m not sure I want to (or ever will be prepared to) work my way through Mastering The Art of French Cooking, but I certainly wouldn’t mind being a master of my own kitchen and my own family’s edible happiness!
I’m starting this new mission of mine this weekend with my most complicated baking endeavor yet. I’ll be whipping up, with the help of my husband, Irish Car Bomb cupcakes. The word “infused” is used the recipe and nothing – absolutely NOTHING – comes from a box. Bree, Julia, and Martha would all be very pleased. And as the recipe calls for all things Car Bomb – Guinness, whiskey, and Irish crème – I’m sure I’ll be wildly delighted with any cupcake outcome by the end of it.
And if nothing else, I’ll have the fixin’s for real Car Bombs.
One thought on “On becoming a desperate housewife….”
You're already as gorgeous as Bree, as goofy as Julia, and as organized as Martha. I love you, and I can't wait to make these (more manly word) boozysmallcakes!