Look – I like batter.
Cookie batter. Apple bread batter. Brownie batter. Pancake batter. The whole batter family, really.
Thing is, I don’t have a wicked sweet tooth. I simply prefer the batter of a treat-in-process to the finished delight.
And this doesn’t stop at sugar or flour-based mush. I also enjoy the savory succelence found in a crock pot of chili, or tomato sauce, or fiber-rich porridge, for crying out loud. I just like to sample the mess, taste the work in progress, season as needed, experience the metamorphosis of a bunch of singular ingredients becoming something grander and more delish than they ever knew they could be.
Unfortunately, as a fat person, I’m supposed to avoid life’s batter altogether. The recommendation is always the same: Shove a stick of gum in your mouth, trust the recipe, and put dish detergent in all containers and all over the mixing tools as soon as they’ve served their pragmatic purposes.
That means no twisting my tongue around mixer spokes to lick a little mashed potato. No dragging my finger along the sides of a bowl to scoop up some buttery cookie dough. No sampling the stew, dinging the dip, or plunging into the parma rosa before it’s fulfilled its destiny as a rouge for rigatoni.
But…but…that really, really sucks!
Do skinny cooks really skip this luscious rendevous their culinary masterpieces?
Do lean and lithe gourmateers voluntarily reject the intimate and savory sampling only found in the world of BLTs? (That’s “Bites, Licks, ‘n Tastes,” for those who’ve never done Weight Watchers.)
Are there BLT Anonamous meetings for those of us who are overly fond of in-transit concoctions?
Heck, I can’t go to my son’s tee-ball game without salivating when I hear the coach yell, “Batter up!” And yet, if I want to go kayaking without having to worry about capsizing the vessel, I’m told I have to forsake any and all thick, gooey, drippy, yummy, uncooked and underappreciated edibles.
Dang, dang and triple dang.
Looks like I better stock up on some duct tape with skin-friendly adhesive.