I doubt Steve had ever used his mini stove, and I doubt my fellow bakers had any more experience with the culinary arts than I did. Perhaps Steve’s oven was too hot, or we were inattentive, but we burnt our first batch of cookies to charred crisps, filling Steve’s studio with the acrid scent of scorched chocolate. We waved our dishrags at the stove to dispel the haze, and set one of the rags on fire. Steve pretended not to notice. I suppose he found Hume more interesting than four freshman girls capering in his kitchen, waving things about and giggling.
Our second and third batches were more successful, and we delivered cookies to each dorm room, giddy with triumph and chocolate fumes. Those who had stepped out or, astonishingly, had gone to sleep, got a scorched cookie taped to their doorknobs.
The second time I cooked unattended also resulted in charred bits… but for that story stay tuned for the next installment of Culinary Adventures of an