As a young mother I baked cookies almost daily, and my bathroom scales still support that fact. Now when I bake cookies a grandchild usually assists me so after I volunteered to bake cookies for a special event, I looked forward to an opportunity to eat cookie dough without sneaking it by the gran…I mean I looked forward to the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking.
Before I began baking, however, I decided to surprise John and prepare dinner. I browned a roast in a small—a much-too-small–iron skillet. I placed the skillet with the roast in it in the oven and proceeded to measure the dry ingredients for the cookies. Suddenly a piercing whistle sounded throughout the house. I turned and saw smoke billowing out from around the oven door. I was surprised such a small amount of broth on an oven coil caused that big of a mess.
I silenced the three smoke alarms and opened doors and windows. Four hours later the self-cleaning oven finishing cleaning itself, but I was too tired to bake cookies. After all it was 10:00 o’clock at night.
Fortunately, the cookie dough tasted—I mean the baked cookies smelled just as good the next day.