Terrified of an oven is not my normal state.
It all started Monday.
I agreed to cook for a group of about 25 people on Wednesday night. I decided to make Tex-Mex and homemade ice cream sandwiches. I wanted to start the cookies on Monday so I could assemble the ice cream sandwiches on Tuesday.
Monday afternoon found me in the basement of the La Vida/Biblical Studies building, preheating the oven and finishing up the cookie dough.
And then a little bit of smoke came whisping through the oven vent. And then a little more. And then, before I could open windows fast enough, the smoke alarm was blaring. And I do mean blaring. The building is on a college campus. They take fire seriously. These alarms were incredibly, incredibly loud.
I ran upstairs to tell one of Jared’s bosses that it was just the oven, hoping he could call of the fire department. College campus, remember? They tie their systems right to the fire department. Oh, oven.
One of the staff at Gordon is a volunteer fireman, so while Campus Safety (or “GoPo” for Gordon Police) and the fireman checked out the oven, we all waited outside. In the rain. And my embarrassment. It was raining my embarrassment. They were big, wet, sloppy drops.
The volunteer fireman got on the radio and called off the fire department, though apparently the fire chief was right around the corner. Thank you, Gordon staff member/volunteer fireman, for calling off the fire department. I am grateful.
I did not finish the cookies Monday. I went home after the basement didn’t smell like burning oven and demanded that Jared distract me so I didn’t think about pouting all night. I like to take a mature approach after embarrassment.
Tuesday, I cleaned the oven. I baked the cookies for the ice cream sandwiches. Everything was going well.
Yesterday, I served a good 20 people Tex-Mex layer bean dip, Tex-Mex lasagna, fresh pico de gallo, and homemade ice cream sandwiches. It was yummy and people seemed happy. But they’re college students whose taste buds have atrophied on dining hall food. They are easy to please.
|Pico de Gallo. Yummers.|
|Jared took over the camera for a while.
There were a lot of weird pictures on it afterward of ropes and knots and the coffee pot.
Today, after cooking for all those people, I wanted to fill a personal craving. I’ve been eyeing these cookies for over a week. Since the oven was in good shape, I thought I could make a quick batch before lunch. I’ve been stockpiling M&M’s in both dark chocolate and peanut butter, semi-sweet, milk chocolate, and peanut butter chips, and some chocolate covered espresso beans. I take my cookie making very seriously.
And I put some oatmeal in them, to make them nutritious.
|It looks nutritious, right? Right? Guys?|
I had them ready to roll, hanging out on my faithful baking stone.
|Bake me! And eat me! I’ll be yummy!|
And then I preheated the oven.
And after a few minutes it started smelly smoking. Again. And then it started smelling worse.
So, I opened the window all the way and propped open the door. I turned off the oven. And after a few minutes, I fled. I was so nervous the smoke alarm would go off again and the whole fire department would show up this time, I just couldn’t take the uncertainty.
This left me in the predicament of having cookie dough, and no way to cook it.
*Weeping and gnashing of teeth*
But if there is anything I have learned this particular semester, it is that the crock pot is in an incredible device. I’m going to give it a shot. Cookies in the crock pot. I’m not willing to make them bars in hopes they might turn out a little better, but I am willing to wait for six hours to have cookies. I’ll let you know how it goes… it’s going to be slow progress, since the crock only holds four at a time…
But at least the smoke alarm won’t go off.