Enjoy:
Oh, the unfairness of it all.... life just throws curves at every
opportunity and there are times when we have to endure the hardest of
hardships - the worst of the worst - the test of all tests.
I wanted to make a pie. The first hurdle, of course, is baking in
general - my motto has always been that if it comes from a box and I
put it into an oven, that classifies it as "home made". I'll also add
that my oven is rather black inside and unless this is its natural
color (which I somehow doubt, but really have no supporting evidence
otherwise), I'm actually waiting for it to catch on fire from
"whatever" is stuck to its sides. In any event, baking is not really
my thing and I have long since subscribed to the notion that the art
of making pies is better left to the professionals, like mothers.
This year, however, mom made her visit in the summer - when apples
(and therefore apple pies) were not ready. I didn't appreciate the
full impact of this until now, when I was faced with a Thanksgiving
weekend without a pie. Now, I should mention that I've watched my
mother make pies a hundred times - and I've even written down the
recipe. Really, I said to myself, how hard could this be???
Well, I'll tell you. It started with buying apples.... what kind do
you buy, how many make a pie, organic or not??? I ended up picking
out 5 macintosh and went back and bought 3 more... (just for those who
may have the same question, and by the way macintosh were not the best
in the end because they fluff up too much and turn into sauce, and
yes, I went with organic). I took out my recipe and read the first
line: Peel a pot of apples ... I started looking around to see if
there was anyone to ask - how big of a pot, how many apples, how
full??? The room was silent. The rest of the recipe followed along
the same lines but I meandered my way through arrows and brackets/side
notes and scribbles - guessing as I went along. In the end, the whole
pot of apples was done and actually tasted pretty good so I went with
that. I was mildly impressed by the whole thing.
The following day, I tried my hand again. This time it was in making
my favorite - lemon meringue. I watched the pastry shell cook to
exactly 3 shades lighter than the sides of my oven. I expertly (if I
say so myself) put the filling into the shell and waited precisely the
right amount of time for it cool. I then topped it off with the
"white stuff". It could not have been more perfect. The pie was a
piece of art, a master piece of baking excellence... a beauty to
behold... And it was after this that life became so incredibly unfair.
There I was, enjoying a perfect slice from a perfect pie... savoring
every mouth full. I actually made a conscience effort to eat only an
appropriate amount in order to draw out the whole affair over days
instead of minutes... I even wrapped the pie under saran wrap - not
too tight but secure enough to protect its flavor. And then the
unthinkable happened. It was during the darkness of night when the
moon lined up with all the stars, when the thunder and lightening came
and the electricity sliced through the air giving life to all the
pre-halloween possessed creatures. Y'know, those creatures who sneak
around like ghosts into defenceless kitchens like mine.... It was
unheard of and I actually let out a yelp of sheer anger when the
evidence of the foul creature came to my attention in the light of
day... It was a beast of great courage that came and ate my pie in the
middle of the night! Such a beast will not be forgotten and will be
hunted down to the ends of the earth. It will be prosecuted to the
full extent of the law - my law.... snappy mousetrap law!
A Peye for a Peye...Look out Mousey!
"The Creator"
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