Ben's about to make amaretti biscuits, except he's customising them because we don't have any almond paste so he's using marzipan (which it says you mustn't use, LOL...) So a bit of improvisation is required. In the Bad Old Days this would probably have led to yet another Baking Day From Hell...
Back then, if a recipe went wrong for some reason, I'd know about it.
I'd hear an almighty crash from the kitchen accompanied by an animal howl of "NOOOOOOOOO!" followed by "Sh*t! Sh*t! Sh*t!" Something would get thrown across the kitchen or slammed down on the work surface. Ben would stamp his feet and crash something else. Then he'd flee upstairs screaming.
Whatever he'd been baking or cooking that day hadn't been a success...
Even the slightest imperfection (e.g. too dry, too soggy, too bland, too oily, too salty or too sweet) would result in an ED-rage and Ben would refuse to eat it at all. Food had to be perfect otherwise it was rejected. Every baking or cooking session had to produce Michelin Star type food, otherwise he simply wouldn't eat it.
And he'd never taste-test as he went along because even the tiniest taste represented weight-gaining calories...
Most of the time I'd discourage him from baking and definitely from cooking meals.
So today, when he chose the unconventional amaretti recipe and decided to customise it, my heart missed a beat. But then I remembered that it's 2012, not 2009 or 2010. These days if it goes wrong he might be a little irritated, just like you or I would be. But that's all.
And, no, by 'customising' I don't mean the kind of 'customising' that he used to do back then i.e. de-calorising a recipe or omitting any oil or fat.
This week he's made chewy buttery oaty biscuits (cookies), white chocolate 'blondies' and a banana and choc chip cake. He's also cooked a wicked fish, cheese and egg pie and a comforting vegetable and barley stew with cheesy dumplings. Tomorrow it's a curry, Monday it's a stir fry in honour of the Chinese New Year and Tuesday it's a vegetable crumble.
And, yes, he is eating this stuff. Unlike the Bad Old Days when he'd bake a tonne of stuff for me and his Dad to eat without touching a morsel of it himself.