Cravings gone South

On March first we had our ward relief society birthday party.  The menu: spaghetti, salad, breadsticks, and cupcakes.  One of the sisters brought cheese filled breadsticks.  While the sisters were serving themselves, I tried one.  There was a entire pan waiting in the kitchen that had just come out of the oven.  In hindsight, I wish I had snuck this pan to my car.  The breadstick was a piece of heaven.

I have been craving them ever since.  I finally remembered  to call the sister and get the recipe (I seem to have great intentions to make phone calls but never remember when the person would be home).

I learned that these divine creations were an all day affair -- You make them with frozen bread loaves which need a great deal of defrosting.  Monday was the day.  A meal of breadsticks with spaghetti on the side.

Because of the great amount of time involved I chose to defrost five loaves at a time.  Each loaf makes eight breadsticks.  40 breadsticks in the making.

My excitement kept building.  I planned on eating ten.  Maybe I could gorge myself, was I capable of having ingesting twenty?

My mind was busy deliberating the different possibilities.  Our family could deliver plates of breadsticks as part of our family home evening activities.  How many would we be willing to give away?  How many would I need to share per person?  Should I invite over my parents?  Paul and Ari?  Diane and Garrett?

The good angel won the internal battle and invites were made.  All invites were declined.  Were these people crazy?  Did they not understand the offer?

Taylei had helped me stuff them with cheese.  She was given an opportunity to eat at One Man Band with my parents but declined.  She wanted to have our dinner.  She hadn't ever tasted of their goodness but she felt great anticipation.

To my utter horror and disappointment, they were TERRIBLE.  Terrible, I say.  My first breadstick was doughy.  The bottom uncooked and even though I love cheese it had way too much.  Nothing like what I had tasted less than two weeks earlier.

I left the next batch in the oven five minutes longer, yearning for more favorable results.  Negative.  If I was one who shed tears, the bucket would be overflowing.

They looked delicious -- they were not.

Two days have passed and the breadsticks are still sitting on my oven.  Staring at me.  Mocking me.

On a positive note, I found the silver lining -- my pants still fit.