because of my kickin' bod, winning smile, and ability to cook like the dickens.
Ok I'm gonna debunk that statement fragment by fragment.
Jordan left her indelible mark on my physique in the form of nearly ten hellllll-no-I'm-never-gonna-leave-you pounds.
My smile is less winning than menacing due to my cuspids looking like I intentionally filed them to a point à la True Blood.
Finally, I cannot cook like the dickens. This is a time-tested fact. Want chicken for dinner? Two choices: chalky chicken or inedible chicken. And when you said you liked mashed potatoes, you meant you liked them with the pungent black film that is burnt milk adhering to the bottom of the saucepan, right?
And Sean tries so hard to look satisfied by the meals I put before him. But there's a tiny amused upturn hanging out at the corners of his mouth when I know I've fouled it up again. Granted, it's not every time, but it's pretty close to every time. We've compromised. On most occasions now Sean is in charge of the meat dish and I put together sides. I think he relegated this task to me because there are only so many ways you can microwave peas. And he also really enjoys his barbecue.
A regula Bobby Flay. With rabid eyes.
Anyway, I was reminded again of my hopeless inability to produce succulent anything yesterday morning when I set out to make the Bug some pumpkin pancakes. I had Googled "pumpkin pancakes no eggs no milk", not because we're vegan, but because I'm a negligent housewife and we were out of these everyday essentials. I found this gem which I had used in the past (because, um, being out of eggs and milk is not wholly uncommon) and it had worked tolerably. Jordan had done her food dance with this recipe on a previous occasion, which looks remotely similar to an epileptic seizure in that she keeps her bottom solidly rooted to the high chair while she jerks her head back and forth at the neck repeatedly. It's all very attractive and not at all off-putting.
So, did you know coconut flour can't be substituted 1:1 for all-purpose flour?
Then why didn't you tell me?
Well you shouldn't assume I would use the vastness of the world wide web which sits at my fingertips to verify it for myself.
I blame you.
As you may have gleaned, I was lovingly and responsibly trying to make this recipe healthier for my baby, that's all. No good intention goes unpunished. Quite immediately after I began mixing the ingredients did I realize that it was muuuuuuch drier than my previous go-around with this recipe. No big. More water, a splash more oil. Alright I guess a little more water...more? Coconut flour thirsts like the Mojave!!
Claycake batter after 2 1/2 cups more water than required.
Cook like the dickens
I did a taste test of the above appetizing, and discovered that, though the texture was verging on disturbing, the flavor wasn't repulsive enough to waste all the work and expensive ingredients. In my logical brain thoughts I figured the texture would be altered upon cooking so let's just give this a shot.
Jordan was killing this downtime by making out with the oven
while I formed pumpkin play-dough into what may resemble a pancake in some galaxy. Far far away. I left them on the pan for much longer than a normal cake would take, probably five minutes or so. Upon attempting a flip:
No chance in hell.
You make my soul cry, Mom.