So I promised I was going to mention the gingerbreads. And I wrote this long post whinging about how they failed, pointing the finger at a certain woman who most people love. And I still want to blame her.
But it’s like this. You know when you bitch about someone, and turns out your bitching to her best friend, and there’s that awkward moment when you want to run and hide cos you know that person is going to choose the others persons side (did you get that? I hope so), well this is that moment.
I’m going to put it out there, and I hope you still like me, but...
I don’t like Martha Stewart.
There. I said it.
Her recipes fail me. All the time. And I’m sure she’s a great women and she seems to make lots of cool stuff, but it’s not for me.
Her gingerbread recipe was an epic fail. Now I don’t know if it’s a matter of metric versus imperial measurements. It’s hard for us Aussies to get exactly 113g butter when the recipe calls for a stick. Or an ounce of something here and there. Same goes for Fahrenheit.
So anyway, this is what they looked like:
Laying out all nice, ready to be iced. I tasted one, spat it out, then threw them all in the bin. It happens. I’m not going to dwell.