I have always admired (coveted) my mother-in-law’s ability for being able to tell when the asparagus is done by smell. (And my husband can do it with pasta.)
I have hoped beyond hopes that I would also get there. Someday. Somehow.
And today it happened!
Is anyone surprised that it was a baked good that made me run down the stairs with two and a half minutes on the clock and rescue my caramelized apple skillet cake from the running-hot oven before disaster struck?
(Now that I’m thinking about it, I guess I can smell when the bread is done, but that seems like less of a victory, because my neighbours can also smell when my bread is done.)
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I remember when I figured out how to tell that the electric kettle was boiling, in the days before auto-shutoff. (I was very young at the time.) I thought my mom possessed some kind of magic ability, but no. She was listening for the sound of the rolling boil or watching the amount of steam coming out of the spout. I guess the signs are always there, we just have to figure out how to use our senses to perceive them.