Step Four - Quitting is NOT an Option

Undeterred by my whining, she slips the apron over my head and ties the bow behind. I get the flour, she gets the large container of CRISCO.

Two cups. She says, as I dip the measuring cup in the dinged enamel pot.

See, that’s what I don’t like about cookbooks and recipes – use this much of this and that much of that. Mix this together but don’t mix that together. It’s too limiting.  I am a spontaneous, creative type.  All this measuring and weighing, order and procedure -  it drives me crazy!

Oh, there will be ample opportunity to be creative, dear. In fact, once you master the basics, you can be as creative as you wish… But, let’s do the dough. I’ll watch as you do it. It’s only three ingredients.  What could possibly go wrong?

A trillion things, I think to myself as I bludgeon the fat and the flower together. After unsuccessfully trying to roll the crumbling ball for what feels like hours, I plead that she takes over, which she mercifully does. But whatever damage I managed to incur to the dough has already been done, and the sticky mess ends up in the garbage can.

 

I hate to admit it, but I feel a huge sense of relief and something akin to sick, perverted pleasure for having proven her wrong. I push the gloating down and put the lid of fatalistic resignation over it. I wash my hands and start putting away the flour, ready to call it quits.

I guess we are done. Well, at least we tried…

She takes her stand between me and the cupboard, effectively blocking my way.

Ooooh, NO, not even close.  We hardly even started! Get another two cups of flour…