Second Try

Inspirational song: One Day More (Les Misérables)

Failure number two is in the books. This set is better than the last, but still far from workable. I solved some of the problems. The oven was hotter. There was only one tray of cookies in at a time, for most of it. But I decided the first set wasn’t as done as I thought it was, after I put tray two in the oven. So I put the first back in on the lower rack, and then sat down and was swarmed by three cats who wanted to talk me out of the snack I was having. I let the cookies burn a little bit. I also bought a much more intense food coloring, but they still aren’t red per se. They are a deep pink. And they still have huge hollows, are too crisp, and the feet spread. Next attempt I will use a regular cookie sheet, not an air-bake type. I still don’t know whether I’m under or over mixing the batter. Only way to know will be to practice.

I have given up on the idea of red and yellow macarons for the Super Bowl party. I may still make a lemon custard with the egg yolks I have from two batches of macarons this week, and serve it next to the plate of raspberry F-ups. It will all taste delicious, even though the texture and appearance are all wrong. I will have plenty of other foods I can contribute to the party. No one will care. I’ll pour my energy into making gluten free mac and cheese and I’ll come out a winner. (Made some a week ago using only tapioca starch to thicken the roux, and it was perfect.)

I’m getting extremely excited about tomorrow’s game. I know how I want it to turn out, but I am pointedly not looking at the odds. I want to be completely involved in game play, not in whether the players are beating the spread. I ought to prepare in a myriad of ways for how it’s going to be. I need to sleep well tonight, and maybe nap early tomorrow. I should take a muscle relaxer and stretch, knowing that I won’t be able to burrow into my usual corner of the couch. There will be too many people for that, and I might end up on a hard chair. Worse, I could end up sitting on the hearth or (gasp) the floor. Must be prepared. And I might want to sneak a packet of ear plugs in my pocket, to put in if the game really goes our way. These are T’s Chiefs, after all. When they play well, we can hear T bellowing when we are at home, with the doors and windows shut. And I don’t know about you all, but I want them to play well. Really, really well.