Flour is evil

I had a lifelong fear of flour. I loved to eat it, not so much to handle it. My experiences with flour ended with a winter wonderland kitchen, globs of flour stuck to the wall and countertops and me looking a drug deal going horribly wrong. Even the cats were looking like tiny ghosts, leaving ghostly white paw prints all over the house.
Recently, I decided that this had to come to an end. I love carbs too much. I started buying a book I found on sale, "Greatest-ever pastry cookbook" by Catherine Atkinson and rolling my sleeves, determined to tame the white beast and its evil minions, the dough risers. I started with shortcrust pastry, to avoid hurting myself. My first ambitious baking was a bit of a disaster, with me using eggs in the mix (what the heck was I thinking?) and mistaking Celsius degrees by Fahrenheit (I do not have an excuse for this one, only that my IQ is way cooler than the oven). Nevertheless, I did not give up and eventually I got the knack of it (sort of ). I am still wrestling the dough instead of kneading it, but Rome wasn't build in one day. A nice bourbon pecan pie on the photo, made for my husband.