So you humans are gearing up for the annual July Gaming Weekend. That means that you, human female, are doing some baking, so that there will be goodies for guests. Over the weekend it was a double batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies and a batch-and-a-half of gingerbread. You wondered whose rotten idea it was that a bottle of molasses is just shy of what’s needed to make a batch-and-a-half.
I think we all know the answer to that one.
Today it is BACON ROLLS, those delectable spirals of bacon, cheddar, and thymey goodness. They look scrumptious and smell divine.
BUT! if you are just going to shove them in the freezer and not let ME have any while they are warm and fragrant, you can bet your miserable life that that super-hot bacon pan is going to find your stingy little hand.
Poke, poke, poke. Does that hurt? Yes? GOOD!
For some reason, there are a lot of Midgardians with birthdays in February. (What do they get up to in May??) As it happens, my birthday also falls in this month, if reckoned by the Midgardian calendar. Today, in fact.
Sigyn has made me a birthday cake, with her own pretty little hands. It looks…er… scrumptious, darling–thank you!
Oh. Sigyn says that it is supposed to look like that. The brown bits are a tasty crumb topping. Fair enough. I’ve nothing against tasty crumbs.
Ooo! It also has a jammy blood-red filling! It quite looks as if I’ve butchered the poor pastry. Sigyn is so cute when she pretends to be horrified.
Mmmm. Messy, but good. Thank you, dearest. You certainly know what I like.
I just hope I can keep the greedy human female from inhaling the remainder.
The visiting mortals (one tall female and two small, sticky males) are filling the house with chat and laughter. Like the cat, I am tempted to go hide under the bed until the din of talking and eating and infant-babble has ceased.
The visiting female has brought with her a number of small, semicircular pastries which warrant further investigation. If I heard her correctly, they are called “empanananas” and are filled with pine needles and apples. That doesn’t sound in the least appetizing to me, but then again, mortals have very strange notions about what constitutes food.
Ah. Sigyn, who has had more experience with human sweets than I, says they are filled with pineapple, which is neither a pine nor an apple.
Stupid Midgardian botany.
That was too close for comfort. After beating the dough monster down, we needed a rest, a bath, and a restorative cup of tea.
Now it is time to actually make the breads. There is a knack to dividing, rolling, and forming the dough into the traditional shape.
Sigyn has it.
I do not.
And still we are not done! I am weary of this dish. It is too much work. I will leave the females to the brushing-with-egg, the sprinkling of salt, and the baking. Summon me when it is time for the eating.
The dough we made has "rested" for a period. (Most of the humans in this house are lazy. Stands to reason the food would be too!) Let’s see how it is doing.
Great glaciers! It is nearly twice its original size and weirdly sponge-like. This can’t be right.
Sigyn thinks it would make a good trampoline. Careful, my sweet! It appears to be unstable.
Help! The food is eating Sigyn! Sigyn, get out of there now! Grab my hand!
We have added the foamy mixture in the measuring cup to flour and a bit of salt. The human female, true to form, has managed to get quite a bit of flour on herself and her surroundings. She and her mother are laughing like lunatics.
Sigyn is laughing too. And making flour angels.
Memo to self: Remember not to get in the kitchen with three females. Silliness has reached unacceptable levels. Call me when you three sober up.
The human female and her mother, when left to their own devices, come up with Projects, usually Projects Which Beget Messes.
Today is no exception. They have decided to bake some small, shaped breads, the making of which will allow them to play with their food before they eat it as well as after.
Sigyn and I have very generously offered to supervise. (Those two need watching.)
First we need some of whatever’s in this yellow packet. I hope this Fleischmann fellow knows his stuff.
Sigyn is adding the package contents to warm water with a dash of sugar.
It smells a bit like Thor’s dirty socks.
Great Frigga’s corset! Is it supposed to foam like this?!
It is burping. That can’t be good.