I recently came across an excellent recipe for eggless cake - made with dates, raisins, pecans and other dry fruits. I tried it a couple of times and it came out quite well - proof being the rate at which it was finished - my husband generally does not like to eat things a third time and he finished it off in a couple of days. So, I thought that instead of using the disposable aluminum baking trays, I should get a proper permanent one.
I was at Ross to return some stuff and thought that I might as well get the tray from there. I liked a very pretty purple colored dish with flowery edges. However the problem was that I did not know whether it was supposed to go into the oven (not having even a remote baking background). On one hand it looked as if it should be eligible for the oven; on the other it was purple and had flowery edges. The label did not help - it just said cake tray and coupled with a lot of French on it and the picture on box (an iced cake with a knife ready for cutting), it looked as if it was keeping the cake after it was made (you have a dedicated pan/vessel/box/instrument for any and every kind of action a human being might take - they lack the concept of "multipurpose"). I was embarrassed to ask for help - it seems so absurd that I didn't know a baking tray when I saw one! My sister also did not answer her phone so I finally resolved to ask a "suitable" floor associate to help me and chanced upon an elderly lady. I was pleased - who better than an elderly American lady to tell me about the basics of baking? I would have been ashamed to ask somebody younger. Because of this confidence, my shock was greater when she replied "it might be, how do I know!!!" She was so cranky that she did not even say sorry (which is one of the most popular words here - along with thank you) or offer to find help. I ran away from here and reached the checkout in a haze.
There were two cashiers at the checkout - a very young girl and a very young boy and my only hope was that I would land up at the girls side. I was embarrassed that if I asked the guy, he would have to ask someone else and the whole store would know that I did not know a baking tray (and I had to get one because I had to bake that evening before Kumar went). As luck would have it, I landed up at the guy's counter and since I was very desperate, I nervously asked him if it was a baking tray. He said confidently that it was. I should have kept shut after that but "nervous blabbering" is something not to be taken lightly. I gave him the unnecessary excuse that I was not sure if I had the right thing because I did not bake!! He promptly replied that he did not bake either!! I realized too late that since he replied so confidently, my words implied that he did bake - and his asperity as a teenage was justified. Instead of beating a hasty retreat with whatever dignity I had left - I further explained that "I did not express myself correctly. I should have said that nobody in my family bakes so I don't know a baking tray". As soon as I heard the sound of my words, I realized what a picture I presented - not to have seen any baking in 30 years is a sort of freak feat from an American point of view.
I finally ran off (without my dignity since I had none left) and just hope that nobody recognized me if I dare to go to that store again.
P.S. Happy birthday Dada!
I was at Ross to return some stuff and thought that I might as well get the tray from there. I liked a very pretty purple colored dish with flowery edges. However the problem was that I did not know whether it was supposed to go into the oven (not having even a remote baking background). On one hand it looked as if it should be eligible for the oven; on the other it was purple and had flowery edges. The label did not help - it just said cake tray and coupled with a lot of French on it and the picture on box (an iced cake with a knife ready for cutting), it looked as if it was keeping the cake after it was made (you have a dedicated pan/vessel/box/instrument for any and every kind of action a human being might take - they lack the concept of "multipurpose"). I was embarrassed to ask for help - it seems so absurd that I didn't know a baking tray when I saw one! My sister also did not answer her phone so I finally resolved to ask a "suitable" floor associate to help me and chanced upon an elderly lady. I was pleased - who better than an elderly American lady to tell me about the basics of baking? I would have been ashamed to ask somebody younger. Because of this confidence, my shock was greater when she replied "it might be, how do I know!!!" She was so cranky that she did not even say sorry (which is one of the most popular words here - along with thank you) or offer to find help. I ran away from here and reached the checkout in a haze.
There were two cashiers at the checkout - a very young girl and a very young boy and my only hope was that I would land up at the girls side. I was embarrassed that if I asked the guy, he would have to ask someone else and the whole store would know that I did not know a baking tray (and I had to get one because I had to bake that evening before Kumar went). As luck would have it, I landed up at the guy's counter and since I was very desperate, I nervously asked him if it was a baking tray. He said confidently that it was. I should have kept shut after that but "nervous blabbering" is something not to be taken lightly. I gave him the unnecessary excuse that I was not sure if I had the right thing because I did not bake!! He promptly replied that he did not bake either!! I realized too late that since he replied so confidently, my words implied that he did bake - and his asperity as a teenage was justified. Instead of beating a hasty retreat with whatever dignity I had left - I further explained that "I did not express myself correctly. I should have said that nobody in my family bakes so I don't know a baking tray". As soon as I heard the sound of my words, I realized what a picture I presented - not to have seen any baking in 30 years is a sort of freak feat from an American point of view.
I finally ran off (without my dignity since I had none left) and just hope that nobody recognized me if I dare to go to that store again.
P.S. Happy birthday Dada!
No comments:
Post a Comment