No Cholesterol, No Deal

Not in an effort to branch out from my cooking success, but merely to try something that might actually bring me success, it was time for me to bake. Baking is something I've never embraced because everything that surrounds it doesn't seem to suit me. It's sweet, smells good and is executed with great precision. It's somehow associated with organized cabinets and clean floors. And mildewless bathtubs. The women on the Food Network that bake always wear dresses that match the curtains that match the color of their spatulas. It just freaks me out.

I decided to face my fears, dig through a very dusty cabinet and retrieve (unwrap) the new standing mixer we got for the wedding. It's quite large and commanding, with all its parts. It just stared at me from beneath the cellophane, as if angry I've suffocated it for so long and daring me to ask it to perform well. I rose to the task. And then discovered the recipe I chose didn't need it. So...back it went.

I stumbled upon a recipe for Carrot Oatmeal Cookies on one of my favorite food blogs, 101 Cookbooks. The thought of it inspired me - smells of carrot cake and warm oatmeal filling our microscopic kitchen, me in a pink apron that matches our pink, well, beige blinds. Nevermind.

One minor detail that went unnoticed was that this recipe was, actually, vegan. No eggs, no butter, nothing derived from something that walked, moo'd or chirped. I immediately knew two things. They would likely be quite healthy and the husband would definitely hate them. But, the hopeful new wife in me proceeded, staring through the oven window for the 11 minutes and 59 seconds they cooked.

When the timer buzzed, I took them out, gave them a good look and the insecurity washed over me. I thought if I arranged them in a visually appealing way, he might like them. Presentation is everything, right? Right?


Answer: "No"

What can I say? He's a butt (er) guy.