Feels like baking a few days ago so off I went to a nearby grocery store, hunting down for a few missing items. By the way, in case you are wondering, I was planning to bake cinnamon rolls after my dad dribbled his love story with Mama. Apparently cinnamon rolls were one of their dating snacks, so yeah let me breathe some life to those good o’ memories.
An hour after grocery shopping, I got home, unpacked the grocery, and the kitchen-noob me was all equipped donning apron and Ramsay’s tall hat. At least the situation I pictured myself to be in kitchen when in reality I was decently a qualified makcik in sleeping kaftan only. Hehe.
First step was to prepare a cooked mixture of milk and butter. ¾ cup of milk and ¼ cup of butter, I was borne to give accurate measurements (major in ingredients) but flipping the other side of the coin…
Screwed up Mama’s hummm…pot? How come so careless! I thought I followed the usual waiting time for a pot to heat up already. So maybe the stove is spoiled… maybe Mama need to buy a new one. That must be it.
Second step is to prepare the dough. Must. Be. Extra. Cautious. Chanting the mantra repetitively inside my brain. Everything ran pretty smoothly until I discovered my dough was a tad too soggy.
Now why is this happening? So I made reference to the recipe once again and to my bewilderment, water level recommended is ¼ cup but I spilled ¾ cup! Useless Bachelor in Accurate Measurements (Hons) rightfully gone to disposal site.
So I just worked on whatever left and dumped everything inside the microwave oven. Mama was pretty thoughtful so she came by and worked on her magic fixing the leftovers. Thirty minutes later…
Handed these to my dad. He stared blatantly at the outcome. “Is this cinnamon rolls?” was the message I understood from his clueless glare.
First bite. Mmm.
Second bite. Mmmmm… *nod nod*
Third bite. “Tastes good!”
It’s either a) My cinnamon rolls was a success b) My dad is basically the politest man alive
I choose to believe (a), for my own good. You know, feeling disappointed is not a choice!
But since my mom came to the rescue, the second batch was more appropriate. Tasted better, too!
First batch v Second batch. Told you the latter was more appropriate. Sigh. My affair with cooking/ baking department is getting exhausted by day.
Now, cinnamon rolls, anyone?