Beware Of The Beaters When Baking
Like many modern men, my husband is a great help around the house. He makes beds, washes floors, does the windows and is a whiz with the vacuum. But I know now that I should have warned him to beware of the beaters when baking!
You see, my husband knows how to handle power tools, but the transfer of that skill into the use of kitchen appliances leaves something to be desired. After 25 years of refusing to cook, he decided to try his hand at baking cookies. Pleased, I offered to show him around the kitchen, but saw that his face registered fear as I took the ruffled apron off the hook. Well, maybe he would be able to manage without it; I certainly did not want to offend his male ego. Next I introduced him to the oven controls. This was like a new toy for him, but knowing that men like MORE POWER when operating appliances or tools, I tried to temper his enthusiasm by explaining that some things do better when operated on low - like the oven settings when baking cookies.
The next step was the selection of ingredients. I proudly displayed the rows of baking goods in the cupboard and I saw his flush of enthusiasm was waning. Knowing that many men are limited in their ability to find things in unchartered territory like the kitchen, I assured him that I would help by finding all the necessary items and set them out for him. I was happy that he was making the effort, so I assured him that it was not that difficult. I placed the canisters of flour, sugar, chocolate chips and other baking goods on the counter. I handed him the measuring cups and spoons and left the kitchen with the parting words to just follow the recipe.
Another of man’s aversions came to mind - reading directions - so I slipped back in to check on him, just in time to avert disaster! Not one Tablespoon of salt - it reads one Teaspoon. By the grim set of his jaw, I realized that this was not proving the simple task he had assumed it would be. Again with the assurance he would do fine, I left the scene of the crime telling myself that he would do better without me hanging over him. (I did remove the remainder of the salt out of his reach before I left as a precautionary move.)
The sound of the mixer told me that the contents were now in the bowl and it should not be long before the sweet scent of cookies would waft from the oven. The sound increased in volume and the motor now roared. I rushed back in time to see that both the mixer and my husband were out of control! Fine flour dust filled the air and was settling on his tightly clenched lips. Looking back, it was entirely my fault. I had failed to warn him that he should soften the butter before trying to beat it. When the hard chunks had come in contact with the beaters and slowed the process, he had resorted to what any man would use - MORE POWER. I rushed over to the outlet and yanked the cord from the socket, but the room was already filling with bits of butter flying about the room like shrapnel on a battlefield. He stared wide-eyed as a clump of cookie dough slid down his cheek. The signs of shell-shock were clear as I led him from the room telling him that I would finish up. It was a nice day to cut the lawn.
I now realize that some territories are best defined by gender. I will no longer try to teach my husband to bake, and heaven forbid that he should ever try to teach me how to change oil!
by Diane Zorn
Diane Zorn has a certificate in Human Resource Management. She has over 15 years experience operating 2 retail businesses as well as a home-based e-commerce site http://www.beyondhandbags.com
Tags: baking
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