The product of this messy kitchen was a chocolate malt cake. It was brilliant. My friend John who ranks quite high on the picky eater scale (who in the world doesn’t like pickles??) willingly ate it again the next day. I neglected to take a picture of it. But I have enough for another so that can be another posting.
I wish I could be an organized kind of cook. I wish I could clean as I go. I wish I would throw away the detritus of my culinary endeavors as I went. But I can’t. I don’t even know how it gets like this. It just does. Eventually it reaches a crisis point and I regroup. But it is never ever organized and tidy. Just regrouped.
I’m not sure why but I am fascinated by a cookbook from a restaurant called Milk. I love how the author thinks and I am awed by her inventiveness. For the second time I attempted to make her chocolate malt cake. I’m not so interested in eating it. I want to understand her procedures. Under the best of circumstances I am not tidy. With this, which requires endless bowls, I was less so. I’m told it was good.