Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate!
Making lasagne today. First time cooking a meal for my family, and is it wrong that the thing I'm looking forward to the most is not having to do the dishes after dinner? ;;;
Anyway, it's been fun. I made the dough after breakfast, modifying the recipe, er . . . slightly. (Jamie Oliver said 2 and a quarter cups of flour and three eggs, I used 2 and a half and four. ) Let it rest in the fridge, blah blah.
Now, when I went up an hour ago to start rolling the dough out, Mum and Dad were starting on the Christmas cake, and as I was putting my second-to-last piece of pasta through the pasta machine (i luv that thing *cranks imaginary handle*), Mum decided to use the beater to beat the butter. Natural enough, right?
Oh, but it was priceless. The beater screwed up majorly. First it sent chunks of butter flying everywhere because it wasn't diced small enough and the blades got jammed. Then the blades actually did get jammed, and wouldn't move. After emitting a series of horrid clunky noises, it began to reluctantly chew through it.
This was butter. Not cement, or even bread dough, but butter. You heard the phrase 'couldn't cut hot butter'? Yeah, well, this was hot butter and it couldn't cut it. Ouch.
So I'm sitting there laughing like a maniac (inside, of course. Outside I retained my composure), while Mum frantically tries to work out what went wrong and Dad swears at the beater.
I quietly finished my rolling, put the pasta machine away, and slunk away to my room, where I'm writing this. Time to read some more Combat Butler Hayate (this manga is killing me) and write some FANFICTION ZOMFG.
Have fun. I'm on summer break till February. ^o^