"O-fer"

My oven has struck again. This labor day I had a few friends over for some food and conversation (...actually they were all teachers like me, so it was full of the ridiculous teaching stories you get in your first year of teaching. If you've never talked to a first year teacher, newer teacher, or really any teacher, you need to. They are quite the treasure trove of unbelievably funny stories. Just be prepared to be bombarded. You're evening will taken over with stories 15 year old antics...). I had a bug to bake something. Does that ever happen to you. Sometimes I just have a need to create something in a way that takes me away and relaxes me. That can be baking for me. Create the perfect texture with fabulous ingredients to feed people you care about. I love that.

My oven hates it.

At least that is what I think right now. While I absolutely love Ina, Paula Dean is the woman who turned me on to becoming a "foodie" (I use that term loosely...I don't think I'm there yet...although I'm not entire sure what it means to be "there"...). Her desserts are naughty. That's right. Naughty. The woman has absolutely no shame in putting a whole pound of butter and 5 cups of sugar in a dish to make it better. Not that I've seen a recipe like that, but she would never say (insert think Southern drawl) "You know, I better think about that stick of butter again. People these days are watching their weight, and I'd like to give them a health-conscious alternative to dessert". That's just not going to happen.

Paula's naughtiness when it comes to ingredients usually means that her desserts are usually "outta this world". I have pretty high confidence when it comes to making her desserts because of this. This day I was going to tackle her Grandmother's Sour Cream Pound Cake. It looked delicious. I followed the directions to a T. I even sifted the flour...something I have never done before. I wanted to get it right. I combined all the ingredients, pre-heated the oven, and made sure to check the cake 20 minutes before the recipe called.

Didn't matter.

The cake turned out dry and slightly burnt. My guests were still kind enough to taste it. Really, why do I serve dishes that I am not happy with 100%? Because I don't want it to go to waste. Now this cake was not inedible or horrible, but it wasn't as good as it could be. The perfectionist comes out. That's got to stop. From here on out, I will no longer sift flour when a recipe tells me to. It will be my first step back towards freedom from the science of cooking. Maybe my oven will love me then.