Royal Icing is my Nemesis
I don’t know why I torture myself. I am no baker. It requires too much diligence, too much exactitude, too much chemistry. I am much better suited to cooking where I can add a little of this and mix a little of that. I have been cooking long enough that I have most techniques down pat and trust my instincts to come up with flavor profiles that please. I take freewheeling liberties with most recipes that I come across because I know what will work and what won’t.
But baking…it typically results in at least one kitchen kata-strophe per attempt. Hand wringing ensues, followed by beads of perspiration, and mostly ends with cursing and the contents in the trashcan. I have caught the oven on fire more than one time. Then there was that one Christmas when the icing on my cake deflated and the top layer of the cake slid off right before it was to be served. My cupcakes tend to be dry and my pumpkin bars still batter-ey. Infuriating for an incurable perfectionist.
Sadly yesterday was no exception, I made sugar cookies for the party. No probs there. I can at least master sugar cookies. But the ding dang icing. I should have known better than to think I could swing any royal icing shenanigans on my first attempt.
I have stayed away from it with good reason. I have heard murmurings that it is difficult to work with – boo, that is doesn’t taste very good - why bother, and timing is critical – not my strong suit. But it yields professional looking cookies with icing that sets up beautifully for packaging. So long as you get the colors right.
I'll spare you the details – but let’s just say the gold glittery monogrammed rounds and stars did NOT turn out gold and glittery. More along the lines of squash colored baby poo. And just like baby poo, that icing seeped down the sides too. Sads.
No matter. I am still going to rock those cookies. ‘Cuz with moves like Jagger no one will pay any attention to poop cookies.
kisses, mrs. V