further amaretto update

The recipe calls for one cup of egg whites.  I'm so glad I bought the stuff in a quart-sized carton, because trying to say Oh, that's seven eggs' worth -- I mean, it depends on the size of the eggs, right, and in the past I've had bad experiences of gloppiness and resolved to add the egg whites one at a time.  With a quart of egg whites and a measuring cup and a standing mixer, I can drizzle the egg whites in gradually, and everything is better.

Baking-wise, at 410-or-so it's taking about eight minutes for the things to be done enough to take out of the oven before they burn.  The tops will go through glossy-shiny and turn drier-looking, and this should happen just as the edges are starting to get golden.  Don't tear the parchment paper when you lift it (carefully) off the tray and lay the whole sheet of paper with cookies on it on the cooling rack.  And this is vital:  let the fuckers cool before gently prying them up with a spatula.  (I have a new silicon cookie spatula and it is lovely.)  If they're still hot, they'll fall to bits.

I can also now report that the optimum number of cookies per sheet is eighteen, which means I can do three dozen at a time in my oven (two sheets, two racks, hurrah).  On the cooling rack now is the second pair of trays, and the third is about to go into the oven; there's probably two sheets' worth left in the bag.  So the recipe makes 784382704 dozen less than I suggested yesterday; but still, one recipe = one gross?  DUDE.

(I mention all this stuff, by the way, in the hope that the next time I make these things I'll remember the relevant details before starting the first batch rather than after.)

alarm clock fun time

So I was up until about 3:30 last night with the laundry and the amaretti. This is later than I'm usually awake!, so naturally I fell asleep within .00000001 seconds of my head hitting the pillow.

This morning, the alarm went off, and I blearily reached out and pressed a button, and the noise stopped -- and the next thing I remember, I woke up on my own and opened my eyes and the clock said 10:08.

I was airborne, y'all. You have never seen me get out of bed that fast. Jesus Christ. Getting to work at 10 is not ideal; leaving the house at 10 is worse; merely waking UP at 10? ARGH.

And then I saw the clock on the cable box, which said 9:08. I had evidently pressed both "hour" and "time" simultaneously. I was still running late, but not so godawful late as I'd thought. Nothing like a little adrenaline to get the morning going, though.

As an added bonus, I hit the button on the coffeemaker, and when I came back five minutes later I had a carafe of ... water. Shit, I thought, did I not put coffee in the basket? I remember doing this! And I look, and the coffee is there and bone-dry. What I'd done, last night when setting up the coffee, was put the coffee in the basket, measure the water, and completely fail to pour it into the reservoir. I'd just left it in the pot. Nice.