“Join the dark side – we have cookies.”
As most people have figured out, I’m a monomaniac. I develop an unhealthy fixation with something and do that until I lose interest altogether.
Right now, that mania is with English muffins. I found a recipe for them and bake them once a week. I love everything about those little bastards; the flavour, the texture, the smell, you name it. I caught myself wondering if I’d get high snorting dough remnants off the table at one point. That’s how far gone I am.
Since I’m not really a good baker, I’ll refrain from giving anyone tips or hints. The clue is to screw it up until you get them right.
Last time, mine came out perfect. Fluffy like whipped cream on the inside, buttery crunchiness on the sides. Slice them in half, apply butter and jam or marmalade, and feel your toes curl up underneath the soles of your feet and your fingers lose all sensation.
Also an important element of Eggs Benedict, which I get right every once in a while.