Biscuits From Hell

Yesterday I came to the conclusion that I... *drumroll please* would make biscuits. Insert photo now:

The first thing that was a stupid thing to do was make them at seven at night. I'm impulsive like that. 

Second, is that the book I was reading from didn't have American measurements, which lead to a mental breakdown over not knowing how many cups was in 350 grams. It wasn't a cute look for me.

After my mom came in, wondering why I was crying in the kitchen, we found a conversions table online, and everything was fine after that. 

I put my dough in the fridge, and sat down at the kitchen table, opening the netflix app on my phone and having a nostalgia party because VICTORIOUS GOT ADDED TO NETFLIX! (I'm currently binging through season 2) 

After 30 minutes of my dough chilling in the fridge, I took it out, floured my surface and began rolling it out. 

I got heart and star cookie cutters, as well as a tiny heart cookie cutter that's adorable.

I spent, like 30 minutes re-dusting my surface, rolling out the dough, cutting out shapes, and putting them on the baking sheet, over and over.

Finally, I finished cutting out the biscuits (with more dough left over!) And I placed my two trays covered in biscuits in the oven, and it was back to childhood nostalgia. 

I was making these cookies until NINE THIRTY AT NIGHT. I REPEAT, NINE THRITY AT NIGHT. 

I was baking plain, easy AF, biscuits for TWO AND A HALF HOURS, and I still hadn't even iced them yet.

Fast forward to the morning, and I've woken up, I rush downstairs to continue my biscuit quest. 

I quickly make my icing, and since I am a fake baker and I don't have a piping bag and a nozzle, I put my icing in a plastic bag and cut off the tip.

I begin icing my biscuits, and the side of were I'm squeezing out my icing bursts. 

I then decide to use a spoon to scoop out the icing, and spread it on my biscuits (the reason why the icing looks so jank).

Then, I present to my family, the biscuits from hell.

Singing off,

Glam Life Online