It's the Tuesday of my Last Week of Class, EVER. While I try to be relevant, occasionally, I pause and wonder, "what am I doing here?" Not here, this world and existence, but here, this blog and 10+ weeks before the bar exam. Its limbo. I am neither a student, nor am I employed, nor am I unemployed. After the bar, I will be unemployed. But we'll tackle that fish when it comes. Right now, I have a singular purpose: to study for and pass the bar. What I lack and what I hope to find a morsel at a time, is sanity. Something to get me through to the next day. It's possible that when a great amount of pressure is applied to a small but plucky human being, something great comes out of it. I can only try.
To the cookies!
Yesterday, I made my first batch of cookie-bars. I set up the prep station in the gazebo or sun room or whatever you want to call it in the back yard. There is electricity there. And if I make a slight mess with the egg beater, it's ok! The garden is a hop away, and all the sugar will help the compost do its thing. As I gazed upon my setup, I was instantly calmed. I had my ingredients. I knew my instructions. There was only a slight threat of rain, and no other time pressure. Then I realized I'd forgotten to bring out the flour. S'ok. I can handle that. I get some bread flour. That's what I have. I convince myself, that's what I WANT.
I'm trying to cream the sugar and butter together with my hand held egg beater. It's no Kitchenaid. It really shouldn't be touching anything other than eggs because the motor will burn out. But I'm about to add eggs to this creaming, so....some leap of logic later, I'm convinced that creaming things is within the capabilities of this hand held egg beater. I really should get a Kitchenaid mixer. I've been lusting after this Professional 600 series and dutifully stalking craigslist for one that is within my price range. All steel gears. Reminds me of motorcycle engines (except those are cast in aluminium) and motorcycle gear boxes.
A few seconds into the creaming, I push the round twirly things deep into the butter. And it grinds with an angry sound similar to a hard drive crashing. I know that sound. It's the sound of DOOM. I stop the beater, put the bowl on my lap to try to warm up the butter. Mind you, the butter has been coming to room temperature for 12 hours. I live in a dark, frigid place next to my heart and ice water runs through my veins so butter is not exactly going to melt in my lap.
I slice up the block of chocolate for the cookie bar. Much better quality chocolate, with an interesting texture after it's added to the dough. I am not fond of chocolate chips because they take up too much space in the cookie and they are unreliable in consistency. Ideally, the cookie-bar will have chocolate and cookie evenly. Tastes like a chocolate chip cookie, has the texture of a brownie. No, not a brownie because those are too sweet, and some are still doughy in the center.
The good news is that I was successful with this batch! In a 7" x 7" tray, each batch produces about 15 servings. I'm trying to calculate the cost of each batch but I'm really bad at figuring out this practical stuff. How do restaurants know to charge $25 for a plate of roast pork? Where is this magic calculator and may I have a twirl on it?
The logistics of this baking expedition send me back to the corner, to twirl and think things over. It is like throwing a handful of flour into a air conditioner. Why am I doing this?
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