Rating (1-10): 8
Grab a glass of wine, sit back, and relax, because this is a whopper of a story. As most of you already know, I've been suffering from tonsilitis since last Thursday. Saturday evening my husband and I invited his mother and sister over for dinner. Because I'm Martha obsessed I decided I would also make dough to make the brown-sugar and pecan sticky buns from the March 2010 edition of Everyday Food even though I felt like crap. I wanted to have them over for breakfast the next morning, and I was determined to make the sticky buns.
I made the basic pizza dough {which the recipe calls for} - it was actually pretty fun. I was really proud of myself for thinking ahead. The next morning I would only have to make the sugar mixture, sprinkle it on the dough, roll it up, and cut 12 pieces. When I got to the point where I needed to refrigerate the dough for 1 hour or up to 1 one day - I was choosing to refrigerate for 1 day, I told my husband that I somehow needed to transfer the dough from the parchment paper which I rolled it out on onto a baking sheet.
He took one look at it and said, "Just leave it on the parchment paper and put it on the baking sheet."
In response, I said, "I think I have to take it off of the parchment paper. It says to put it directly on the baking sheet."
He said, "Believe me. It's not going to matter. It'll be fine on the parchment paper."
I said, "Are you sure?"
He reassured me. The end.
Well, until the morning at least. You can probably guess how this story is going to end, right? If you can't, keep reading.
I got out of bed to make these sticky buns for breakfast. Even though I didn't feel good, I was excited about making something new for breakfast. I preheated the oven, made the sugar mixture, sprinkled it on the dough and then I tried to roll the dough up like a jelly roll. Not so fast. It was completely stuck to the parchment paper. My husband and I both tried pulling it free. It would have made for good reality television. We're both trying to roll the dough while the parchment paper is tearing into little bits and sticking to the dough. It's a complete disaster. I told him to call his mother and sister and tell them that sticky buns aren't happening, and I instructed him to make sure that they understand that the sticky bun fiasco was his fault - not mine.
Then I continued to have a major temper tantrum complete with foot stomping, yelling and cursing. I'm talking worse than a five year old who just spilled his ice cream on the ground. I basically tell my husband that it's not safe to be around me right now, so he takes our dog for a quick walk. During that time, I tediously pull off as much of the parchment paper as possible. I try to finagle the individual sticky buns, so that they still look like sticky buns. It wasn't a pretty sight.
I put what was left of the sticky buns in the oven and told my husband to call his mom and sister back and let them know that they can come over for breakfast at their own risk. I warned them that they would probably consume pieces of parchment paper, but they still wanted to try them. His mother said, "It's just a little extra fiber."
My husband said to me, "You take two that don't have very much parchment paper on them. You don't need any more fiber. You're already regular enough." He's lucky his mom and sister were there after that comment.
I don't know if they were just being nice, because I was obviously grouchy or if they didn't find very much parchment paper on their sticky buns, but they seemed to like them. I really loved the taste of the sticky buns, but I couldn't get past the tiny bits of parchment paper I kept pulling out of my mouth. Gross!
Lesson learned. Don't listen to my husband when I know I'm right.