Looks good, doesn't it? Here's what really happened.
The dawn broke. What it broke, I don't know, but if I had been awake at the time, I certainly would have taken it as a warning. Today was destined to be a clumsy day, and everything--even nature--was contributing. Today was the day that I would make Triple Chocolate Biscotti, and the world would be forever changed... or at least the color of my shorts would be.
I followed the instructions, honest! Well... at least I tried more than I usually do, but I had to give up because it was getting too messy. I set my computer on the counter so I could look at the recipe as I went along. I combined some of the liquids and then got out some eggs. I already used my hand mixer, and thought I'd just stick the immersion-blender whisk in the eggs to quickly mix them up. But unfortunately, it only had one setting: Very Very High. And the whisk attachment is just so aerodynamically shaped as to make everything around it fly into the air while it stays firmly in place. It was a fateful moment...(nanosecond, probably). I pressed the button, and instantly, there was egg yolk in my hair, on the counter, oozing over my toes, dripping down the counter, sprawling on my computer keyboard... just about anywhere but in the bowl where they once so peacefully resided. One almost had to laugh it was so comical. However, I was the only one present, and was a little too busy trying to cleanup without spreading the chaos further to stop for a hearty chuckle. I presently ordered my small kitchen to rights and continued with the cooking. It seemed to go well enough for the rest of the process. Of course, chocolate is always dangerous and one never knows until hours later what single-minded purpose it has been pursing against your own health and sanity.
Blissfully ignorant of the mess I was in (literally) I arranged the plate you see above and prepared myself to enjoy one of the (lesser) fruits of my labors. (My particular cookie was falling apart and not worthy of being in the picture.) I picked it up and tilted my milk, ambitious to cover as much chocolate as possible with its creamy goodness. Ah but friends, Caesar was ambitious. I hadn't taken a single bite of my chocolate creation before I had spilled milk all over our tablecloth, one of our chairs, myself, and the floor. Sighing, I set about cleaning up my second mess.
And then, 2 hours after taking the picture, I looked (for the first time, apparently) down at myself and saw a little bit of chocolate on the bottom corner of my shorts pocket. How odd. I certainly didn't use my pockets while cooking! I flaked it off, and then noticed some more farther up... and more.... and more!!! There was chocolate caked all over the inside of my pocket! Maybe Julius Caesar wasn't ambitious. Maybe he just was clumsy and got in the way. Maybe the circumstances overwhelmed him and became too much for him to handle without making a mess of it. (But Brutus says he was ambitious. And Brutus is an honorable man.)
He seemed to do well ruling while he was alive (filling the general coffers and all that). And the biscotti itself turned out well and delicious. And yet, though the people may mourn and wail, this day buries my noble ambition to cook with three chocolates at one time.
