Have I mentioned before that I had a brief stint as a professional baker? After a couple of months trying to manage the biorhythm shift to go to sleep at four in the afternoon and wake up at half past midnight while mothering a kindergartener and a toddler with unknown as of yet form of autism, I realized I really couldn't handle it.
But I did learn one very important thing while stirring batters and rolling doughs at a stupifying hour: baking is not for improvising.
I forget this now and then. Witness: