Baking in The Time of the Stupids
Baking has distracted me in the afternoons during The Time of the Stupids. I only recommend it if you're willing to burn the calories. Fortunately, I don't drink alcohol. This is my addiction during this waste of time, energy, and potential.
My great-grandfather on the Hillner (Maternal) side of the family (Weisbaden, Germany) immigrated . . . cue the Virtue Signal . . . to the United States in the late 1800s. He opened, with the help of friends and family, a bakery in Mantua, New Jersey.
The following is a case study for the Nature versus Nurture geeks.
The best and most prolific oven-shovelers in the family were his daughter, my grandmother, her daughter, my mother, and Yours truly. A direct line from the man who spent decades sticking his hands into 600 degree kilns.
The past seven weeks, which only feels like 3,958 weeks, I have baked enough to qualify for a dressing down by that angry television chef, actually all of the television chefs.
Many of them appear to be angry, except the Indian babe, who is just a drunk, but at least an attractive friendly one. She reminds me of Graham Kerr, the Galloping Gourmet, only she gives me a chubby. Graham just made me laugh.
And during the past 3,958 weeks I've exhausted my repertoire of recipes, AND my mother's potpourri cookbook, which contains several more including the dreaded cinnamon banana bread. I have moved on and crafted a wedding cake, though just one layer, two batches of biscuits from scratch, and today a lemon infused pound cake sits in the oven.
Nothing has failed, collapsed, burned beyond identification, or, tah-dah!, tasted less than yummy. At this point, the grocery stores are going to put me on a butter ration.
Since there are but two of us waiting out the liars in the political class, ["We must lock down to flatten the curve. We must lock down to lower the infections. We must lock down to eliminate the disease,"] Lee and I have continued to exercise for 60 to 90 minutes every day, in addition to walking our two 65 pound dogs three times to burn the calories.
Don't know why the stooges in the press just come out with the real intention, "We must move the goal posts again, so Donald Trump looks like a modern day Mao, even if he isn’t."
If anyone has any carbohydrate requests, please let me know.