Cooking Adventure FAIL.

I debated not to share my embarrassing cooking fail from this past weekend, but life is about embracing your flaws right? If not, no one tell me differently!

This past Saturday, I woke up early and made my boyfriend a three-course breakfast with a cup of coffee on the side all while looking flawless and sexy in my nightie.

HAHAHAHA. Not.

Instead, I managed to pull myself from bed before noon, which I would consider an accomplishment, but I can’t since it was 11:55. I rolled out of bed and refused to put on any pants. In my oversized sweatshirt, I groggily found the button on my Keurig to make my latte. While waking up and sipping my coffee, I pulled up the Cinnabon pancake recipe I had found on Pinterest earlier in the week.

I read the instructions and pulled all the ingredients: flour (which I keep in a sealed  clear container), eggs, butter, milk, powdered sugar (which I keep in a sealed clear container), cinnamon and brown sugar. Simple. I carefully measured out my ingredients and began to whisk, whisk, whisk obviously flinging flour and brown sugar everywhere. Sigh. When the pancake batter was finally combined, it looked like I had chocolate milk. What in the world?… This is supposed to be thicker, right?

Of course I picked up my cellphone and called my Italian grandmother asking her if I could just add more flour. She laughed and instructed me to only add a little at a time, chuckling as she hung up the phone. So that’s what I did.. I added a little at a time… until I had poured my ENTIRE container of flour into the bowl and the mixture wasn’t much thicker. I thought I’d try it anyway.

I poured the pancake batter onto the frying pan, only for it to caramelize. Ugh. So I threw it away and tried again. And again. And one more time and then I finally accepted defeat. I stared at my disastrous counter covered in flour, sugar, egg yolk, and milk.

Disappointed, I popped some cinnamon rolls in the oven. Don’t worry, they were pre-made Pillsbury ones. At this point, Jaron was waking up and I explained my crisis. Confused and barely awake, he listened as I went on and on in confusion and proclaiming it had to have been a bad recipe!

As my cinnamon rolls were baking, I started to clean up our kitchen so I could make homemade cream cheese icing for the cinnamon rolls (something I had done before). I was going to save this Saturday morning with one spoonful of icing at a time. Ready to make the icing, I grabbed my clear container of powdered sugar opened it getting a whiff of flour. OH. MY. GOSH… I didn’t just.. Yes, yes I did just use powdered sugar instead of flour to try and make my own pancakes. No.. Yes.. Noo. Okay, wait, so do I admit this or defend myself with the bad recipe excuse? Without hesitation I burst into laughter.

Jaron looked at me puzzled and questioning my sanity.

“I just used powdered sugar instead of flour to try and make pancakes,” I admitted.  Needless to say, he is still making fun of me and it’s nearly Thursday!

As I came to terms with my error all I could do was keep laughing at myself. And although I was laughing, I couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to be perfect. I was going to make these awesome pancakes from scratch and my boyfriend was going be in awe and love me for my impeccable breakfast making creativity. They were going to turn out just like I saw on Pinterest.

I should have known better, but that’s beside the point. If they would have turned out perfectly, what would the fun in that have been? A good breakfast, sure but one minus some humor and imperfection. And isn’t that what life is about? Being able to laugh at yourself and your failed attempts along your pursuit of “growing up”.

Smiling at my failure, I pulled the cinnamon rolls from the oven, scooped one from the pan, and placed it on a plate. I sheepishly handed Jaron his cinnamon roll and noticed he was just as pleased with his easy-to-make cinnamon roll as he would have been with the complicated, made from scratch Cinnabon pancakes.

It was Saturday morning full of ditz and failure, but an irreplaceable one.

PS. NO ONE tell my mammaw my mistake. I still can’t bring myself to admit that one to her.