Cornbread Fiasco

I’m going to blame my latest baking disaster on a disrupted routine. On a normal day, I am home by 3:30ish and have an hour or so to myself before zumba and/or hangin’ with my girls (or guy). Today, however, was not a normal day.

Reason number one: it took thirty minutes to get to work. I live about seven miles from the office. You do the math. (I am still alive, though, because my friend Briana offered to be the snow driver and got me safely to and from work.)

Reason number two: I got off work at 4:30. As I mentioned, I’m used to having been home an hour by now. At 4:30 on a normal Thursday I’m dressed in sweats, a t-shirt, and tennis shoes and on my way to the gym.

Reason number three: I began cooking dinner immediately upon arriving home (after tending to Deuce’s needs, of course). On a normal day I have a few hours to unwind before stepping foot in the kitchen, other than for snacking purposes.

But as I mentioned, today was not a normal day.

My dinner, luckily, turned out just fine. I whipped up my famous burritos (which are technically just soft tacos dolled up a bit) and Rice-A-Roni Spanish rice. I could make a meal out of that stuff. While the burritos were in the oven and the rice was simmering away, I began preparations for homemade sweet cornbread. I’ve never made homemade cornbread before, but I’ve been craving my stepmom’s cake-like cornbread and decided to give it a shot. It’s the easiest thing in the world to make. You just mix together flour, cornmeal, sugar, salt, baking powder, an egg, milk, and vegetable oil. Then throw it in a 9-inch pan and bake it for about twenty minutes

After I made my plate, I carefully placed my cornbread in the oven, set the timer for twenty minutes, and sat down at the table to enjoy my Mexican feast, reason number four my day was not normal. I never sit at the table when I’m eating alone. I usually plant myself on the couch and get my grub on while Deuce looks on longingly. But I digress. (Told you I’m chatty…)

Twenty minutes and three beeps of the timer later, I jumped up to check on my cornbread. I pulled my well-worn oven mitt over my right hand and grabbed my kitchen towel in my left hand. I only have one oven mitt, and I can’t get a good grip with my potholders. I carefully removed the pan from the oven and set it on a potholder so I could check its doneness. A sharp knife inserted precisely in the middle revealed that the cornbread needed to bake another couple minutes. So I put the oven mitt back on, not bothering with the towel this time. Surely I could grip the pan tightly enough in one hand long enough to turn from the counter to the open stove. Nope. Just as I bent down to place the pan back in the oven, I promptly lost my grip and dumped it into the oven. Just like that, my sure-to-be-heavenly cornbread was ruined. I would like to say Deuce was in my way and I tripped over him. Or that my oven mitt was thinner than I realized (it is well worn) and I realized too late just how hot the pan was after being in a 400-degree oven for twenty minutes. But not so. I honestly don’t know what happened, except this: 

I told you, today was not a normal day. On a normal day, I would never let any baked good come to this end.