60/365
This was monkey bread was a labor of love. Not by me, mind you, but by Andrew. I ended up having to leave the house this afternoon before the monkey bread was done baking. I left Andrew with instructions to take it out of the oven after about 20 minutes. He dutifully checked on it after 20 minutes and decided it need a few more minutes. Well, a few more minutes was all it took for the sugary, buttery sauce to bubble up, overflow the pan, and coat the oven in a scalding, burnt sugar layer.
After rescuing the monkey bread from the oven, he set it to self-clean like any smart person would do. He did not account for the fact that that our house has a crazy weird ceiling layout that directly sends smoke coming from the oven self-cleaning up the stairs, setting off the smoke detectors.
And then, after all of that, I wouldn’t even let him eat any.
I’m the best.