I'm pretty good in the kitchen. Oddly good in the kitchen, in fact, given that I experiment a lot and hardly ever measure things properly. That only makes the times things turn out badly more of a disappointment, though, when I expect deliciousness and am greeted with something disgusting.
I made the red wine cupcakes again on Monday afternoon. The cupcakes, thanks to my very capable sous-chef R, turned out beautifully. The glazes did not. Because they were so easy the first time, I figured they'd be fine this time. And then I used baking chocolate instead of regular chocolate, so the glaze came out more like a cross between taffy and fudge, all grainy and chewy. It's still sitting in the fridge, oozing that sort of liquor that comes out of dark chocolate and doesn't taste like anything much. I'll figure out something to put it in, I guess, that involves an oven. At least that one came out edible.
The caramel, however, was an unmitigated disaster. I think I didn't cook it over a high enough heat, and the sugar wouldn't brown properly before the water boiled off, so it wouldn't react with the cream, and when I tried to stir the cream in anyway and see if it would reduce, I ended up with a thin, curdled, sugary syrup that I promptly poured down the kitchen sink before it made the whole kitchen reek of sour milk. Good thing I had some goat milk cajeta handy that I could use instead. The ladies at knitting circle appreciated it.
Another delightful case of "Read the Question!". The only saving grace was that we didn't set anything on fire. And warm chocolate cupcakes, I suppose. And that I didn't have to do the dishes.
Oh, well, I guess everything turned out all right after all.
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