So...my marriage is on the rocks, my recipe is not working.
Life feels gloomy.
But I decide to continue to throw myself into this contest with abandon because, after all, I saw this clearly in a dream. I will continue onward. I must.
And I do.
I make the recipe over and over again. With jam. With preserves. With lemon curd. With butter. Without butter. With cinnamon and jam. With cinnamon and preserves. And butter. And no butter. And just about every flavor of jam, jelly or preserves that Smuckers makes. My pretense of organization has gone totally awry. I just try every darn thing I can think of.
My husband gains 14 1/2 pounds in sacrificial samplings.
And the recipe is still just ho-hum.
But on the plus side my marriage has improved! My husband just opens up his mouth and lets me put samples in. He says every recipe is delicious. But he is lying.
I can see the fear in his eyes.
He knows not to confront a crazed Pillsbury Bake-off winner wannabe.
I feel sorry for him.
But I still remember him throwing away batch number four (no I don't hold grudges, why do you ask?)
Finally after five million combinations I hit on one that is yummy. It has butter. It has almonds. It has vanilla. It has powdered sugar.
Yea. It is tasty.
So now, having invested approximately $1,236.00 in Pillsbury products to make this recipe I decide it is time to taste test with people who do not realize I am crazy and who are not afraid of me.
I take some to my neighbors. I watch them carefully. "Oh, yum," they say. I give some to my parents and watch them intently. "Oh, yum," they say. I give some to guys working on our house. "Oh, yum," they say. I try to give a sample to the UPS man but he runs away looking scared. But I'm certain he would have said "oh yum" if I could have caught him.
I am definitely getting close.
I realize this isn't the most unusual recipe so I review my little spread sheet again and see that previous million dollar recipe for the biscuit/cherry pie filling little pies. This is waaaay more inventive AND delicious then that.
So I write it all out like a real recipe.
I make people bake it. "Oh, it's easy!" they say. "Oh, it's yummy!" they say.
I rethink the recipe again. Maybe it is too simple. I try throwing other things in there.
My poor husband almost goes into convulsions every time he hears that nasty Pillsbury can explode. "I thought you had your recipe," he whines.
I can barely walk. "Quit eating all this stuff," my joints protest.
I am avoiding all my appointments at the Naturopath. I am pretty certain she will not understand this obsession with food products I am not supposed to eat.
But, hey, maybe I will mention the million dollars to her.
Maybe I will tell her I have perfected my parade wave for when I am on the stage. Although my joints are so inflamed by now I doubt that I will actually be able to manage the parade wave.
I am going to be the next Pillsbury bake-off winner!
To be continued...
Tickled Pink No. 147
2 hours ago