I hate truffles! (Yes, I am alive, but that’s besides the point.) Not that other kind, but the chocolate kind. I’ve eaten the other kind of truffle on some kind of fancy pizza that my parents made (well, put in the oven). It was delicious. To be more specific, I hate making truffles. To be even more specific, I hate my sometimes perfect, but sometimes awful memory. If I’m being perfectly honest, this is really all my fault. If I’m being even more honest, this isn’t even that big of a deal. To be clear, I’m not going to be specific nor honest from here on out. To be even clearer, I’m not even going to be clear. I’m having way too much fun with this.
Okay, on with the story.
One day (Today. This is a key point in my story, for if it were tomorrow, I would love making truffles.), I wanted to bake. Actually, I didn’t exactly want to bake at first. I just wanted to do something that would kill time (I seem to have too much time, lately. Anyone want to borrow some?). Bingo. I decided on cooking. It’s rather time consuming because you have to gather the ingredients, read the recipe, mix everything together, improvise when you add almond extract instead of vanilla, lick the bowl, put the stuff (because you’re not sure if what you concocted can be called food) in the oven, wait for it to bake, clean up, and eat the stuff. Lots of time has been consumed, and the time consuming monster is full.
I made chocolate scones to start out with. They weren’t very good, but my mom told me they would be better when they cooled. I haven’t tried a cool one yet, so I can’t tell you if it’s actually worth eating. I felt sad that my scones weren’t yummy (I also wanted to consume some more time), so I decided to make (bingo) truffles. I’ve made them before, and they turn out extremely yummy. I figured that this would make up for the un-yumminess of the scones.
I gathered the ingredients and did what the book told me to. Wonderful. Then I poured my chocolate mixture into a bowl and mixed in the vanilla extract. Fabulous. I checked the recipe. Spectacular. I read that I was supposed to refrigerate for four hours or overnight. Bingo. Horrendous. How was I supposed to react? Those words are like the kiss of death! The recipe taunts you by promising chocolatey sweets in a few short minutes, and then takes them away, telling you that you have to wait until tomorrow. What if I don’t feel like finishing the truffles tomorrow? Huh? What then, cook book?
It’s times like these when I wish I could time travel.