If only…
As some of you know I moved recently. My husband and I had lived at our last place for nearly six years and in those years I held parties and cooked and did what I love – baking. So to say I knew my oven is a misnomer. I was intimate with my oven.
It burned me, it steamed in my eye, it emitted foul odors when I didn’t clean it right and it fed people from across the boroughs. It also ran hot.
Which to those who don’t cook I’m not making a joke. Ovens can run hotter or colder and still say 350 degrees. My mother’s oven for example runs a little cooler. Take for instance a batch of brownies to be cooked at 325 for 25 minutes. My mom’s would take about 28 – 29 minutes, with my old oven, I’d clock it around 22-23.
With the move, I lost my beloved oven.
Now I’m stuck with the a temperamental oven.
Yesterday’s recipe for the pound cake came out dry. Wanna know why? My oven runs hot. Sometimes.
I followed the recipe, stopping it about 3 minutes before the recipe called for it and the cake was still dry.
Granted, I should have checked a little more frequently if I knew my oven was pms-ing but hey, I didn’t ask for your logic. So just take it and move along.
Move along….
So, I have to break in my oven. With baking. My meat dishes tend to come out well (thank you meat thermometer) and frozen foods (yes, not everything can be magically whipped up into … well, magic) come out fine.
It’s just by baked goods.
I’m telling you this because if you follow the previous recipe, watch your oven. Love your oven. Unless it doesn’t love you back and then spite it by using the microwave.
All Mirth and No Matter 