The Lemon Pledge Incident

a tale as old as time

I paused in the act of sliding the brownie pan into the oven.

“Something smells funny,” I said to my sister. It was the 1990s, before cellphones and earbuds allowed for free-ranging conversations. I was talking with her on the kitchen landline, receiver tucked between ear and shoulder, working within the reach of the coiled cord tethering me to the wall.

I looked around the room. Spotted the can on the counter. Lemon Pledge. I had prepared the pan with Lemon Pledge instead of Pam Baking Spray. No brownies for you.

Was it the first incident of Distracted Baking in recorded history? Probably not. Also, not the last.

Last week I had a big batch of Brunswick Stew bubbling in the crockpot, planning to share some with my in-laws. Thinking cornbread would be a great addition to the meal, I asked ChatGPT for some tips to zhuzh up a box of cornbread mix.

With my laptop on the counter, half a dozen tabs open, I got some tips for enhancing a box of Jiffy mix.

But really, I should make two boxes, one for us, one for the in-laws. I doubled the added ingredients, but it was really watery. I stood at the counter, glanced at the Pyrex measuring cup in the sink. Okay, wait…two thirds plus two thirds…math hovered in the air like a soap bubble.

Oh, Jeri.

Each addition seemed to compound my miscalculations. In the end, there were four boxes of mix, a stick of melted butter, 4 eggs, a couple of tablespoons of sour cream, and four squirts of honey in the bowl. As well as a 2/3 cup surplus of milk.

No way was this batter going the way of the brownies.

I poured – keyword – it into four 6” cake pans, popped those puppies in the oven and left it up to the baking gods.

It was pretty good. Moist. Not transcendent, but I did have more than one slice. Maybe mildly habit forming.

I vowed never to practice Distracted Baking again.

I told my husband I’d make him some banana bread today. I left the laptop in my office and used my phone to research healthy options for a new recipe I wanted to try. I screenshot the recipe to make it easy to follow. I was crunched for time and wanted to keep up with my reading schedule to finish Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov before Easter, so I hit the play button on my Audible edition and got to work.

I measured. I mixed. I followed the recipe to the letter and used a scale to evenly distribute the batter among three small loaf pans.

As I placed them in the oven, a DOH! moment. Oh hell, how am I gonna get them out?! No Pam. No parchment. Not even any Lemon Pledge. I had never prepped the pans.

The devices have changed.

My attention span, not so much.

All’s well that ends well.