Not So Betty Crocker...or Giada

Recall from my previous post that I was mouthing off to Ms. Giada? Yeeaahhh - I take that back. The girl’s got one up on me. Ok, she’s got many up on me, but who’s counting? Giada – I recall my statement that you can put it in your skillet and cook it as a passive aggressive attempt to shame your effortless beauty and immaculate cooking skills. Please come spare my family and me and unveil that I’m really an unfit mother and wife, will you? Puhleeezzeee?

My attempt to bake for my friend Mo’s birthday last week failed miserably. Not that you’re really surprised as most of you dear readers are my closest friends and you already know my girls’ night assignment consists only of alcoholic beverages, but this was particularly lame. And when I say lame I mean I now get to change my phrase to “I can even screw up macaroni!” to “I can mess up cookies that have exactly two ingredients in them. TWO!”

Hence comes the tale of the Oreo Truffles. Ingredients: Oreos and cream cheese. That’s it. And no, I’m not kidding. It goes a little something like this:

Task one: visit store, get two ingredients along with that for Puppy Chow and trail mix to complete the cowgirl theme that so well fits friend Mo for her birthday celebration. After all, what says cow piles other than a few Oreo truffles? Completed with little harm to all involved. Check. (B-plus)

Task two: put the five or so things away for preparation the next afternoon. Fail. And this is where it begins. Between a baby to feed, an iPhone to answer, a husband and two furry friends underfoot, the Philly cream cheese was left out. Discovered the next morning, it promptly visited the trash lest I poison the 20 women I work with. Did I mention also they all bake immaculate, mouth-watering items on a weekly basis? (F)

Task three: begin mashing of Oreos while attempting to listen in on a conference call, tear open the door for the UPS man who is avoiding the 100 pound dog’s jaws. Go from soup can to pizza cutter to spatula to baby toys in attempt to dice cookies because of course we don’t have a rolling pin in the house. Decide that the whipped Philly cream cheese that we spread on bagels will be close enough to complete my chocolaty concoction. I didn’t know it yet, but…fail. (D)

Task four: give up on cookies smashing as finely as they could without the help of a food processor and decide the guests will like the extra crunch. Go to mix in the cream cheese with the blender and delight that the texture seems to at least look right at this point. Still failing. (D-minus)

Task five: on conference call number two, attempt to roll concoction into little balls, only to find the dough won’t even leave my hands with its stickiness disaster. After several attempts of different tools, hand wetting, involving spouse, etc., no dice. Disaster. Fail. (F)

Task six: make faux balls anyway and argue with husband who claims they are “not even appropriate to take to work. You can’t bring those to work – how embarrassing!” Success – I do it anyway. (C for creativity)

Task seven: send a warning email to team that starts with: “I’m the type of gal that even when my attempt at preparing food fails, I bring it anyway…” causing a stir among the cubes and a whole lot of laughter for the day. Many Moms themselves, they get that the two hours spent trying to finagle this debacle was 120 minutes I could have been with my son. (B for transparency)

Task eight: post-party, chuckle to myself as I toss out all but one of the Oreo Truffles off the paisley plate. At least the birthday girl tried. What a sport! All the more reason to celebrate her. After all, how bad can the wrong cream cheese mixed with Oreos be? ©

Yeah – I try to hold the title “undomestic goddess,” but let’s call a spade a spade, shall we? I’m not so Betty Crocker. Or Giada for that matter. Or really even a female that should be allowed to prep any kind of food at all. But, I’m me. Will you take that served?