Speedy likes to tell people that he and the girls are my guinea pigs. I like experimenting in the kitchen and they are the ones who decide which make it to the food blog. Not actively decide but, you know, I can always tell whether they like a dish or not. If no one is interested in second or third helpings, that’s a bad sign. If Speedy says, “Don’t ever cook this again — it’s terrible!” that means I hit the jackpot — the dish is so darn good it’s ruining his non-existent diet in a HUGE way.
Not too long ago, the most often asked question in the house was “What’s for dinner?” On Saturdays, there is the additional “What’s for lunch?” Lately, however, those questions have been toppled by “Mommy, have you baked today already?” Sam, especially, expects something home baked everyday. It’s a question no one really asked until recently. When I asked Alex why they never seemed to ask before, she said, “Because you used to bake tough cakes.”
The way I understand it, therefore, my baking has improved considerably that they now look forward to what I bake more than what I cook. Just last night after dinner, because I baked nothing all day, Speedy was saying he was about to go on withdrawal. Then he started shaking and shivering like a drug addict in need of a fix. My fault, he said, because I spoiled them rotten.
So, I baked. By 10.00 p.m., the cheesecake brownies were out of the oven. An hour later, we were having our midnight snack. The girls stay up late these days to finish all their projects as the school year winds up. The cheesecake brownies were perfectly baked, they looked pretty good and they tasted right for goodness’ sakes, but… I don’t think anyone liked them very much. Sam took a piece and didn’t come back for a second. Alex said the cream cheese topping was too sweet. And Speedy… well, when I baked a custard cake the other night, he was insisting it was all his. I gave him a plate with two pieces of cheesecake brownies last night and he gave me back the plate with one whole brownie left.
It’s preference, of course. Personal taste. Some things they like; some things, they don’t. And, apparently, the combination of cream cheese and chocolate is not something that they feel is worth craving for. Whatever. They’re still my guinea pigs and they’re stuck with my cooking and my baking.