Two small but telling incidents from the weekend:
1. For lack of planning exactly how much time I needed Saturday morning to bake my breakfast casseroles for the Cherry Creek Chorale‘s retreat/ rehearsal, I ended up with one beautifully-baked set and one goopy set. I always say, “Oh, they’re so easy–all you have to do is open cans!” But that’s not really true. You have to grate cheese, and whisk together eggs and milk, and open cans, and even opening cans takes some time.
I had loaded up the car the night before with the chafing dishes and paper goods, but I had talked myself out of pre-mixing the casseroles. There wouldn’t be room in the fridge, I reasoned. I’ll just do it in the morning. And so I got the first batch mixed up and into the oven soon enough for them to be done, but by the time I got the second one prepared it was just too late. I had to get there before 8:30 or I wouldn’t have time to set up before people started coming. My helpful husband volunteered to give the second batch the extra 15-20 minutes they needed and then bring them over to the church, but I couldn’t see his having to spend about an hour of his time just to repair my mistake. I had this faint hope that a combination of setting time in the car plus having the chafing dish at full heat once I got there would be enough to get it done, but that didn’t happen. Instead, I had to stand there as we cleaned up the first batch and dipped into the second, “Take it from around the edges!” Eventually I just threw the rest out. It tasted raw. I don’t think I poisoned anybody, though, so that’s good. I had thought ahead and shopped ahead, but I had a failure at the end, so I was like a runner who gets 95% of the way to the finish line and then trips. Alas!
2. When I got home I decided to give myself a little rest and so sat down to watch a repeat episode from last season’s Great British Baking Show. (You must watch this if you haven’t done so; we are eagerly awaiting season four.) I was impressed once again with how much some small failure (just like mine above) can derail great efforts. It doesn’t seem as if that should be the case, but it is. So at least two of the contestants are faulted for their flavorings, one for not being strong enough and the other for being too strong, in making this incredibly complicated pastry structure composed of eclairs, cookie disks, pastry cream, and frosting. Unbelievable. But Flora’s lime and coconut flavors don’t come through, and the judges don’t like Nadia’s bubble gum and peppermint flavors. (I know. It was pretty weird.) Nadia still gets star baker of the week, though, because other structures collapsed and because she nailed the other two challenges. And someone has to go home at the end of every round. Outcomes can hinge on tiny differences.
I wrote on Friday about my plan to join in the 168-hour time challenge sponsored by Laura Vanderkam, but I gave up almost immediately this morning. How do I characterize a time segment that involves making an omelet, putting dishes in the dishwasher, and reading my e-mail? I don’t do one thing at a time. And what about time spent talking to my husband at the breakfast table after I finished eating? So I quit. But I’m back to using the idea of pomodoros, and my little timer is ticking away as I write this. Six minutes left! I’d better hurry.
How can you plan so that you don’t stumble at the finish line?