My husband – darling man that he is – decided to bake some Christmas cookies one year. One of his favorites is Chocolate Pixies; a rich and exceedingly sticky chocolate batter rolled in powdered sugar and then baked. They’re a mess to make, but worth the effort for their chocolaty goodness.
We have an Amish bulk food store just down the road. I love it for buying baking supplies at a discount price. Everything is pre-packaged in identical plastic bags or containers. You’re already starting to smile, aren’t you? I thought so.
Hubby melted the chocolate, mixed up the batter, and found a bag full of white powder that he poured into a shallow bowl. He dropped each sticky spoonful of batter into the powder. Rolled it into a ball to coat it completely, and then put them on the cookie sheets. He removed each sheet full of crinkly powdered delights and slid them onto a paper-lined card table to cool.
And then, anticipating that meltingly sweet first bite, he picked up a warm cookie from the very last sheet and – ACK!
The texture was right. The chocolate was there. But what happened to the sweet? Pawing through the cupboard to find the bag of white powder, he flipped it over and read the words. . . baking powder. Not powdered sugar.
Thankfully – as mentioned above – I buy my baking supplies in bulk. So he had plenty of ingredients to mix up a second batch. This time he read the entire label on the bag of powdered sugar before pouring it into the shallow bowl. The reward? The sweet chocolaty goodness he’d been hoping for.
Misreading what’s right before us can happen in more than just the kitchen. How often do we misread a friend’s reaction to something we’ve said? Or a child’s whining? Or a spouse’s attempt to please us? It pays to stop and carefully read the “labels” all around us.