First, let me just emphasize that I was joking with all that chicken stuff on the post in which I tried taunting you into taking the cardboard box oven challenge. I understand that not everyone likes to cook/bake, and the truth of the matter is, I have always enjoyed it so this looked fun and interesting more than challenging.
I should say quickly however, though I have always traditionally enjoyed baking/cooking, I’m getting burnt out on it. Ha ha! What a stupid pun.
Anyway, blah. Do my kids really need to eat so many times a day? Do my husband and I need to eat at all? Well, okay, yes, I do need to eat apparently. That is the only explanation for the state of my waistline and developing back fat. Right, right, that has little to do with need and much to do with bad habits, but whatever.
Bottom line: cooking doesn’t intimidate me. To those who are intimidated by it I say: try it anyway! It’s only a box! What do you have to lose? I little time? Sure. Your dignity? Only if you trip over the box, land on it, and singe your eyebrows off, or if you impale yourself on a wire hanger while attempting to make the baking rack, or, you know, if you accidentally mummify yourself in the tinfoil and can’t escape. In the case of the latter, however, you deserve to lose your dignity.
But seriously the worst that can happen is that you’ll produce food that is not fit for consumption. The best that can happen is that the next time there is a power outage and you can’t cook or go out to eat (because the restaurants need power, too) you will be able to sit in your driveway cooking in your box and being the envy of the hungry neighborhood.
Shut up. I don’t want to hear about your grill.
Here we have the making of the oven. It is not difficult to do if you don’t have five children hovering and trying to help at all. If you look closely you can see Rude the Dog saying “I am so out of here.” You can also see, if you look very, very closely, the beginnings of the poison ivy on McH’s forearm. Oh that it looked that good now! And? Just peeking out a bit from under his shirt sleeve? You can see just a bit of his tattoo. This all has nothing to do with the box oven, of course, but they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I thought I’d just give you some of the words from this picture. You know, because words are what I do.
Lookie, lookie! We’ve got cookie! One of these was baked in the box, and one in the oven.
After getting our big cookie “crusts” out of their respective ovens, we split the kids into two teams and let them make their “pizza.”
I cropped the kids out because, you know, how many password protected posts do I need to do in one week? AND, what is the point of doing the whole cardboard box oven report and then slapping it with a password?
Anyway, the box really did bake equally as well as the oven. The only issue we had was the slightly smoky flavor of the cookie pizza that was baked in the box. Had it been a turkey or a meatloaf, the smokiness would have probably been a welcome accent flavor. But on a cookie pizza? Not so much. Which isn’t to say it was totally gross, however, because we ate the whole darned thing anyway.
Should we do this again in the future, I think we need to make slightly larger holes for ventilation. Maybe that will resolve the smoke issue.
If you have no idea how to make a cardboard box oven, go here and follow their excellent directions.
A few bloggers did take me up on the challenge, so I will continue to read their blogs and let you all know when they report about their adventures in cardboard box baking. I would list them right now, but I need to shower, somebody is supposed to be showing up at my door any minute and A~ is supposed to be having an online conference with her virtual academy “teacher” in just a few minutes.
Yes, as the parent who stays home and does school with my children, who checks their work and helps them understand the things with which they are having difficulty, I am not the teacher in the eyes of the state, I am the “learning coach.” Funny, nobody sent me a whistle or a pair of ill-fitting shorts, but whatever.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt will not be seeking refuge in any boxes around here from now on.