That’s so me! And I’m going to prove it to you right here, right now. But I’ve taken it to the next level. I can bake bread too!

First of all, what a stupid idea to start baking at nine o’clock in the evening. “It’s just some breakfast buns, no stress”, I thought. HA! Just? Not for this girl! Or maybe I should say, that knowing me and knowing how clumsy I am, I shouldn’t start these kind of “projects” at this hour…

• Body temperature boiled water – easy!
• Add some yeast – no probs!
• Add a grated apple – mhm…
• Some milky product – yep!
• Linseed – *la lala lala*
• A bit of salt – hm… Should do this more often…
• Add some wheat flour and some graham flour – check!

And now to the machine… I bought a baking/mixer machine, all-in-one, when I moved out from my ex. I’ve used the mixer a lot, for my smoothies. But tonight, it was the big premiere of the baking bowl!

I hadn’t used the baking bowl before, so I needed the instruction manual to get all the right parts for mixing a dough. I know, already there I should have seen the warning signs. Anyway… Two parts (!), the middle one and the actual mixer blade, and I placed them in the middle of the bowl. All the ingredients were added to the bowl and it was time to mix it all together. For two minutes, according to the manual. I pressed start and it started mixing it, like it should.

I was so excited. Would my relatively small machine be able to mix it all? Had I put enough Flour in, or would it need some more? I’ll stop right there (mostly because the two minutes were up). The mixing looked like it had worked. And yes, it did need some more flour. The manual had said “two minutes for mixing a pizza dough”, but when I went to get some more flour I saw that the recipe said “mix for five minutes in a machine.” Confusing, but perfect! I needed to add some more flour anyway so I thought it was all fine. What could happen? Nothing really.

The flour went in and I started the machine for another two/three minutes. While waiting, I started cleaning up some of the mess I’d made in the kitchen and continued with my la lala lala-ring. Easy breezy, but I had started thinking about the flour. Had I added enough? Would this be the f*ck-up, not getting the flour right and be up all night trying? I decided that if it wasn’t enough, I would just manually mix it in the dough.

“What could happen?” I should have known myself better than to even think that thought. And worry about the flour not being enough and that it would mess it all up? I should know myself better than that too. Here’s a little quick story from when I was a kid and wanted to surprise my mum with oat cookies. Funny enough, it was my favourites, not hers. I had made them a thousand times before (not really), but then under my mum, dad or one of my brothers surveillance. I made them into small round perfect cookies and put them in the oven. I laid on the floor in front of the oven and waited for them to be done. I checked them several times, but no. They just didn’t want to bake properly. I was still laying on the floor when my mum came home, and now I was crying. They were still not done! All soft. Not even half baked. The reason? My mum started laughing, even though trying to hide it. You know an oven. It has like one oven you cook in, and one you never use, underneath. I had put the heat on in the underneath one… Why does that one even exist?! And what do you use it for?!

Anyway… Time was up and I took the little bowl off the machine.

And voilà!

Even though it still needed to be added some more flour, the flour wasn’t my biggest problem anymore. The whole slimy dough was. Obviously, I hadn’t made the middle part go “click” when putting it into the bowl. You can only imagine the joy! It was everywhere, I mean, deep down in the machinery. Engine. Whatever it’s called. I had to leave it because I had to be quick with the dough. It was suppose to lay in a bowl to rise for forty minutes. I decided that dry dough probably would be easier to get off anyway, and left it.

I kept adding flour to the bitter end, already given up on the thought of having tasty home baked bread for breakfast. Even when spreading it onto the pan, I kept adding flour to the slimy dough. Getting tired and seeing all of the new mess I’ve made in the kitchen, I just went “whatever” and put it in the oven. “I’ll eat the soggy little buns, I’m not picky”, I thought.

As I said, get in line guys! This is real housewife material (not!) (and not that I would want to be a housewife either, so all of you out there queuing knows that).

It’s not how you get there that counts. As long as you get there in the end. And for sure I did. Just had one, and they were really yummy! Breakfast, here I come!

And with that, I’ll say goodnight!