So, I was all excited earlier this evening because I've been planning all week to make a yummy-looking new recipe I found in a magazine. The recipe was for a homemade calzone...and let's be honest, I LOVE a good pizza-type food.
I got all the ingredients together (Matt likes Italian sausage and pepperoni and I like pepperoni and mushroom...and lots of cheese) and stuffed the Pilsbury pizza dough to the brim. I stuck it in the oven and set the time for 5 minutes less than what the recipe said. Then, I picked up the phone to call a friend while it baked.
Twenty-five minutes later the timer went off. Five seconds later Matt opened the door and asked if I had set a timer. I hung up with my friend, walked into the kitchen, opened the oven door and said a substitute curse word. They were black. Not completely black, but black enough to make me lose my appetite. I ate ice cream for dinner instead.
I was, and still am, pretty sad. Apparently, I followed the magazine recipe's directions when I should have followed the dough package time. It'll definitely be something I try again. Just not anytime soon.
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