This summer, I traveled to my home state of Kansas for a family event, where I got to hang out with my extended family for the first time in months. During my visit, my friends, aunts and several of my cousins commented on the status of the blog, “Where’s the blog?? I need to see more posts!” and “I need you to bake things!” were the subjects of many conversations throughout the week.
During one such chat, my Aunt Kathy, with whom I’ve baked too many freshly-picked cherry pies and Red Velvet cakes to count, reminded me of one of my first “kitchen failures.”
“Ashley, do you remember that time we made the cooked frosting for the Red Velvet cake and it just never set up??”
Why yes, Aunt Kate, now that you mention it, yes I do.
And you know what, it’s actually a very fond memory. I don’t exactly remember what we did to try to salvage it or how well the cake actually stayed together, (None the less tasted, although I’m pretty sure if we threw enough butter and sugar in there it probably tasted just fine.) but what I do remember, is the fond memories I’ve made in the kitchen with my family.
And oh, have there been memories. There’s the frosting incident, of course. And the Christmas where we couldn’t seem to get the mashed potatoes creamy enough, no matter how much butter and sour cream we added, (And oh, did we add a LOT of butter and sour cream. I think a whole stick of butter and at least 3/4 of the container of sour cream was in there in the end) only to discover all too late that we’d forgotten to put milk in them first. Richest. Mashed Potatoes. EVER.
I suppose what I’m trying to say here is, I want this blog to be about more than just the prettiest things I’ve baked/cooked/created recently. I want it to be about the whole experience of baking. And that means successes AND failures. Burnt crust, failed frostings and all. So don’t be surprised if an “If At First You Don’t Succeed” post pops up once and a while. And please, by all means, feel free to laugh with/at me. In fact, I’d encourage it.