Expensive small disaster, or never heat the oven---

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maytagbear

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when preoccupied!

Getting together with women friends from college this afternoon, to celebrate their birthdays. (One is sorta "Karen-ish", one slightly "Grace-ly".)

One wanted brownies, the other wanted snickerdoodles.

Fine, I have great recipes for both.

Mixed the brownie batter, put it in the prepared pan....at the WRONG temperature. It was supposed to be 300F. I was wearing my glasses, but being elsewhere mentally.......

Seriously burned chocolate and eggs is not a lovely perfume.

It was too fragrant too soon, and in a flash, it was a disgusting odour. I was on the phone to a cousin in Boston, celebrating her good medical news, and screamed an oath, and dropped the phone.

Nothing to do but grit my teeth and make the batter again. The new batch is in the oven now.

The first ones are beyond salvage, unfortunately.

Because the recipe takes 1 cup of butter (2 sticks, 227 grammes), I am now out of butter for the rest of the month. And walnuts. Not to mention out of Droste cocoa (hello, Louis!).

Not in a great mood right now.

Lawrence/Maytagbear
 
Oh, and

be sure to set the function control correctly, as well.

This time, I got the temperature correct, but the top ("broil") element was on. These are less burned, so I am taking them anyway.

This has not been a splendiferous baking day.

L/Mb
 
Can I laugh out loud, in a caring way?

Everybody has this happen.
I'm guessing your friends won't think anywhere near as much about this as you will. Enjoy your day.

And say hi to Karen and Grace for me.
 
Look, if I had Karen and Grace in my home, I'd be putting on my coat and grabbing my car keys and high-tailing it with them to the nearest chic cafe and let someone else do all the work so we could enjoy the repartee.

Of course, there are no chic cafes within reasonable driving distance but you get the idea.
 
I feel your pain, Lawrence. I recently put 4 dozen chocolate chocolate chip muffins in the oven, stepped outside to snip some basil from the garden and wound up talking with a neighbor and going to his house to see his new snowblower. About 45 minutes later, I realized what I'd done and dashed home to hear my kitchen smoke alarm screeching away.

What a waste. I was SO mad. And my house reeked of burned chocolate for days.

Oooh, snickerdoodles. I love 'em.
 

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