I am embarking on the wild adventure of baking today, since it’s so snowy outside and I’m gonna be hiiiiigh later and need munchie provisions.
It’s not a good idea. I know this, but I’m gonna do it anyway. See, me and domesticity? We don’t really go so well together. We have a long and rocky history, from the time I burned a bag of popcorn to literal ashes (true story) to last night, when I attempted to make dinner for my parents and couldn’t even figure out how to make rice. And also accidentally tried to give them raw salmon. Long story short, I am not good at Martha-Stewart-type shit. I have two specialties: scrambled eggs, and chocolate-chip cookies.
And today, I’m making muffins.
I mean, it could be worse. I could be attempting crepes, or a soufflé, or lamb stuffed with roasted peppers and crab or something. (Ew.) But still. The particular muffins I want to make are coffee-cake muffins, which means I have to make muffin mix and cinnamon swirly stuff and the crumbly goodness. THAT IS A LOT OF THINGS FOR ME.
Let’s face it, the only things I’m good at in the kitchen involve being on top of the table. Seriously, though, I am jonesing for these muffins, so even though I make a hobo who considers baked beans from the can a delicacy look like Rachel Ray, I am going to give it the ol’ college try. Here goes nothing (or possibly, here goes my kitchen).