Turns out, you can’t bake tequila.
November 22, 2012 § Leave a comment
While everyone else and their grandma’s get together with their grandma’s, I am alone.
Thanksgiving is one of the handful of days each year that I retreat to be totally by myself. Quiet permeates the house and I don’t talk on the phone the whole live long day. I don’t really put pants on, either, but that’s neither here nor there.
I sleep as late as I want, maybe go for a run (I did), and come back to make brunch for like ten people. The only one eating is me and I am totally 100% okay with it.
Today’s festivities included peanut butter chocolate chip cookie dough. Unlike the usual, I actually decided to bake them. Started our amazing convection oven for preheating and cranked The Wailin’ Jenny’s.
You don’t know The Wailin’ Jenny’s?
As I galavanted around the casita, this very weird smell caught my attention as it grew stronger. “What is that?”, I thought. “Oh God, do we have a gas leak??”
The casita isn’t the youngest chick on the block and we’ve had issues with rotted doors and rats alike. Gas leaks wouldn’t be a stretch.
It didn’t smell like gas, though. It smelled like a burnt margarita.
Led me right to the oven.
Opened the door.
And discovered that I was trying to bake a bottle of tequila.
So, life tip: If you decide to use the oven as a storage unit for liquor, tell somebody.
Turns out glass melts and liquor leaks at high temps.
I swear, one of these days, I’m going to become an adult.