giggling like the doughboy
I am not great at baking. I can cook, but my attempts at cakes, pies, and other assorted desserts usually don't go very well (although for some reason, I can make a wicked sticky toffee pudding and chocolate cheesecake). So you can imagine my surprise and glee when I managed to make cinnamon rolls last night. Real, homemade, almost as good as Cinnabon's cinnamon rolls. Mrs. Kitten Tosha very helpfully recommended Nigella's recipe for cinnamon rolls from the "How to be a Domestic Goddess" cookbook, and I must say ta muchly for the suggestion. The dough was rather alarmingly gloopy (a good cookbook should really warn you about things like this), and even Paul had a go at kneading it just in case it wasn't forming properly due to my girlygirl wimpy hands. It all turned out well in the end, and Paul's Dad should be happy with these birthday baked goods. Go me for only eating one roll last night! (It was broken anyway, plus I had to make sure that the dough was cooked properly. Oh shush.)
Paul said that cooking is an art but baking is a science (he may have stolen that quote from someone else, actually). I never did well in science class (except biology) and most of my studies revolved around art. This is probably why I can make a kick ass risotto but my one attempt at breadmaking resulted in a beige anvil.