So you had to go and get cocky…

Yes!  I have baked two successful recipes in a row and I am the queen of breakfast baking!  I am the queen of the kitchen and kicking baking’s arse!

Well that got shut down quickly in my 3rd week of this fun project.  I sat with Paul at breakfast on Saturday morning before grocery shopping (our regular tradition), and searched for a recipe.  I browsed for something fun that I knew Paul would like.  He grew up buying cinnamon bread with his “Granny”, and  I wanted to recreate this kind of memory for him, but homemade as opposed to store bought.

I was so confident and sure of myself.  I had two straight weeks of fabulous success in my baking project, so why wouldn’t I be able to bake a simple quick bread?  There’s no yeast involved, it’s a simple loaf of bread, and I am the self proclaimed “queen of breakfast baking”.  There’s no question that I’d succeed!

Oh you dear fool… my simple minded, overly cocky friend…

So I make my batter just fine, all’s looking good.  The cinnamon/sugar mixture was expertly combined by Paul and the batter’s consistency is as it should be.  Well everything’s coming together swimmingly, until about 20 minutes into the oven and the batter was still completely raw in the middle.

This is where my overly confident attitude set in and I knew best!

I checked the lovely loaf of bread at 30 minutes with a clean knife inserted in the middle, and a very wet knife was extracted.  Okay, everything’s good, I set the timer for 10 more minutes.  Check again and I pulled out a semi-wet knife from the middle of the loaf.

I am so knowledgeable and experienced.  I am the “queen of breakfast baking!”.  No need for a timer.  I’ll just bake it for 10 more minutes.  That should be enough time.

Pashah!  I don’t need no stinking timer!  Well, I thought that until I opened the oven only to be met by the pungent smell of burnt baked goods.  I pulled out the bread and was rewarded with a very singed, in truth, fully burnt loaf of bread.

I tried to cut it open, as steam desperately tried to escape, to see if I could salvage at least a bit of the yummy cinnamon bread I was hoping to serve to my very patient husband.  He was so sweet in saying, “It’s not that bad.”  Alas, we went out to breakfast that morning.

And so… humbled I am!

Burnt Bread

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