The Baker...

I have the pleasure of owning a double sized oven – a necessary piece of equipment when cooking for the small tribe we call our family, and while it’s wonderful to have an oven large enough to roast a small child in when you are catering for the starving crusty flatties that makes up about half of our family, its hell on the carbon footprint when we are reduced to the five permanent residents of the house, three of which are dogs (hey, they love their human food almost as much as we do – it would be most unkind not to cook for them too).

So in a fit of domesticity and energy saving/eco friendly enthusiasm, I had decided to make good use of the oven each time I turn it on for dinner and "throw together" a batch of muffins or cakes for school lunches or snacks. Great plan, I hear you say. Apart from one small problem. Although I’m not too shabby on the main meal cooking side of things, I obviously missed out on the “I can bake nice fluffy cakes and muffins” gene entirely. Instead I’ve been born with an oversized “I can turn any baked product into brickettes that can kill a man at twenty paces if thrown with enough force and accuracy” gland.

Now you might think I’m exaggerating, but I can assure you, I AM NOT. I threw the last batch of uneaten gems out on the lawn and several things happened in a relatively short space of time:

1. Several small birds, after managing to chisel off a few wee crumbs each, lost the ability to fly altogether. The poor things were fair game for the neighborhood cats and Moose, our West Highland terrorist/bird killer. It was ugly. UGGGGGly.

2. Scott disappeared whilst mowing the lawn. I was just working my way through the automated answering system at the insurance company to claim the prize money (his life insurance) when he reappeared. He had apparently fallen, mower and all, into one of the small cave like dents left in the lawn from the bouncing cakes. He made his way out by following the light on the otherside of the crater and eventually gained enough traction with the mower blade to pop his way out the top.

3.We lost several square meters of land off the edge of the section on the last bounce of one of the larger gems. It’s devalued our property by several thousand dollars. It was at this point that I realized it was probably false economy, baking cakes while the oven was hot to save power and money spent on snacks.

So, all in all, I figure it’s probably safer for all concerned, the kids, the birds, Scott, mother earth herself for that matter, if I just buying freakin Tim Tams for the lunches and snacks and retire the baking trays for good.