Epic Fail.

A Cooking Story.

Once upon a time I had a brand new recipe- a dessert recipe- that I was oh so eager to try out for the very first time. They are called "mega morsel bars," and they are a mixture that when concocted properly make up a chocolate chip cookie peanut butter brownie, in a sense. Is your mouth watering yet?

Before the following story unfolds, it is important to know that my baking skills are nothing to brag about by any means. It's almost comical as to how I essentially mess up anything that I ever attempt to cook.

Unfortunately, this story does not stray far from the pattern...

Let us cut to the chase.
Last night I decided to put the recipe to the ultimate test.

With the directions printed and in hand, my partner in crime (best friend) and I drove to three, count them, THREE different locations to acquire all of the necessary ingredients.

Once acquired, the night ensued and excitement began to mount. During the baking period I did nothing but proudly brag and boast about how delicious the finished product would be. I was going about the procedure with the utmost of care in order to ensure perfection. As the instructions insisted, when I was finished mixing all of the ingredients together, I placed the dish into the oven for promptly 18 minutes and digressed up the stairs.

22+ minutes later I returned to the kitchen horrified only to discover that the timer had been going off for quite some time, how long exactly could not be determined. I frantically grabbed the potholders and removed the dessert from the stove in one fell swoop.

Burnt.

However, that wasn't our only problem. As their name implies, these desserts were supposed to result in a bar-like shape and contour not unlike that of a rice crispy treat, for example.

What we had sitting in the tray in front of us, on the other hand, was a flat, squishy 13x9 rectangle- nothing bar-like about the dessert whatsoever.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

Being fat kids at heart, however, my best friend and I couldn't wait to dive fork first into the piping hot and chewy creation, despite its unknown affliction. After tasting, I had an epiphany. Aha!

Overnight! It is supposed to sit overnight before being eaten! That is the problem!

(P.S. That wasn't the problem.)

The next morning I was overwhelmed with the feeling of disappointment as there was no change to the dessert's texture.

Scratching my head, I took a gander at the recipe once more.

As I skimmed the recipe, eyes squinched, and mouth parted while reading off the ingredients one by one under my breath, I came to a halt.

My heart stopped.

"1 1/2 cups of flour," it read.

I rewound my mind to the beginning of the previous night's events. The mark to the left of the "1/2" that I had so hurriedly mistaken to be a bullet point was in actuality a NUMERAL. A number! A 1!

An entire cup of flour went unnoticed, and thus, forgotten.

Oh, I am so distraught I could just KICK myself if only I were limber enough to do so!!

I  reeeally hope that my future husband knows how to cook.

I'm truly convinced that there is no hope for me.