Tomorrow is Rhiannon's birthday. She'll be 33. Ever since we've been married Rhiannon has vowed to teach me how to cook. When Rhiannon was a little girl, she made a list of what she wanted in a husband. The list was strikingly specific. She even requested someone with brown hair and blue eyes. It's a little odd that I happen to meet every one of the items on her list except for one, which is a love for cooking (and/or baking).
I don't know why I've never taken this up. Perhaps it's because the few times in my life I've tried to cook or bake, they turned out to be disasters. I guess I'm still a little traumatized by the time when I had to bake something for my fifth grade class. I chose monkey bread thinking it would be easy. There was just one little problem with the monkey bread I made.
I accidentally replaced sugar with salt.
That was embarrassing.
Tomorrow we'll be going to Fuddruckers to celebrate Rhiannon's birthday with a few of our friends.
It will be the historic debut of my world class baking.