Bakin up biscuits

My house smells like garlic…I’m definitely removing fear of vampire invasion from my list. I don’t actually have a list, but sometimes I think about making one…

I’m baking dog biscuits—trays and trays of dog biscuits—made by two preschool classes today. They’re shaped like bones and dogs—I hope you’re grasping the theme—and vary in thickness depending on each child’s rolling technique. This adds challenge and visual stimulation to the cooking experience. I’ve been filling baking stones with biscuits of similar shape and size, hoping very little burn.

We’re taking these tasty treats to the humane society next week. They’ll be devoured with love and drool, thereby making taste a moot point.

“Then why,” I ask “are you worried about burning a few?”
“Because that’s just who I am,” I remind myself.
“Oh yeah, that’s why you need a massage.”

I just removed the first biscuits from the oven—most of the dogs became Weimaraners in the process. There’s nothing sadder than little burnt doggie tails scattered across a cookie sheet…

The next batch tucked their tails between their legs… My best guess? Fear of spatula castration.