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| This is not Betty Crocker's Gluten-Free Bisquick mix. Nope. |
Is Mercury in retrograde?
And if so, Darling, do I believe it can wreak havoc with recipes? I started out with a different approach to this peach cobbler recipe, you see. I thought I'd try out the new Betty Crocker Gluten-Free
Bisquick mix I bought this week. I imagined a golden topped biscuity crust you could sink your teeth into, a melt-in-your-mouth forkful of shortcake, dripping with warm and sticky-sweet juice. But what I got was a bone white mound of anemic dough (scarily reminiscent of Play Dough
) baked into what can only be described as yesterday's mashed potatoes. It didn't even try to turn golden. And it didn't melt in your mouth like a biscuit. It just sat there on your tongue. Flavorless. Bored. Expecting to be admired without effort. Like those fame junkies
who are famous for simply being famous. They haven't actually accomplished anything to garner their celebrity status. They just nurture a deeper narcissistic ambition than your average high school beauty queen. They expect adulation because they exist.Like an awful lot of the gluten-free foods churned out by corporate
entities.Continue reading
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as much as any scratch cook out there. A 
. But I don't love cranking up the gas stove to boil big pots of water when the kitchen is already steamy with late summer heat and I'm faint and famished (and did I mention, hot flashing like some cussing heaving alligator from the swamps of wherever it is they film True Blood
?). I may idly dream of gleaming white porcelain bowls heaped with mounds of angel hair or spaghetti kissed by a delicate cream sauce, but I'm not inclined to heat up my kitchen just to satisfy this culinary craving. I get cranky and sweaty just thinking about it. 
