Since beginning my work as a companion and caregiver for my wonderful great grandparents, I have become a significantly more accomplished chef. Of course, this wasn't a tough feat to perform, considering the fact that I prepared dinner probably seven times in my life beforehand, and six of them were for boys who I was trying to impress. Then I took to making breakfast with friends, though I think a hearty bowl of Marshmallow Mateys at sunrise is generally the best way to go about the most important meal of the day. Baking has most certainly always been the dominating striker to my culinary fancy, and I used to think I was better at creating scrumptious, rich confections than balanced meals. No, my friends. Not so. At least, not this week.
The other night I was reveling in a telephone conversation with my best-looking friend back home (don't take it personally, guys. All my friends are ferociously attractive. This one is just really talented with magnifying glasses and binoculars) and I suddenly had the urge to make a delicious lemon pudding pie. I had a few baby pie tins on hand, and I had seen the pudding mix in the cupboard, so I grabbed some [ahem, reduced fat] graham crackers at the store and finally had the chance to put it all together. Grandma had gone to bed an hour earlier so I had to be extra quiet with the pots and pans, not to mention I was still jabbering away on the phone. Pudding is one amongst the astounding variety of food weaknesses I possess, and I really enjoy making it from a mix. Just add milk, and ta da! A gorgeous pudding cup, right at your fingertips. For some reason, the pudding gods like to play tricks on me, and my poor heart sank to find that I had to use eggs and milk and water in order to concoct this fancy schmancy lemon pudding. Here is what went wrong:
1. I dropped an egg kersplat inside the refrigerator as I was extracting three for my recipe.
2. I cracked the eggs too hastily and wound up with several pieces of non-retrievable shell in my mixing bowl.
3. I DIDN'T READ THE DIRECTIONS and discovered too late that I was supposed to beat the eggs before adding them to the rest of the ingredients.
4. I put the mix onto the stove to cook and went over to crush graham crackers. Silly old me used my fingers and before I knew it I had a carpal tunnel. Just kidding. That's dramatic. But my hands really hurt. A lot.
5. I tried putting several graham crackers into a small Ziploc bag to crush them, and the bag broke and got graham dust all over the counter.
6. I used WAY too much butter in one graham cracker crust and hardly any in the other. So the separate baby pie tins were both dissatisfied with their inappropriate crusts.
7. I made too much noise and woke Grandma up. She rushed into the kitchen, hands in the air, saying, "I just heard Bill yelling, 'SHIRLEY!' " and then she witnessed her confused surroundings, dropped her arms, and went back to bed. Disclosure: Grandpa Bill is in a rest home. Six miles away. Although he can holler unbelievably loud...
If you feel like you just can't cook to save your life, don't despair! It will come. It may go again, but eventually it will also come back. It's alright; waves are a good thing. They mean you have friends.
The other night I was reveling in a telephone conversation with my best-looking friend back home (don't take it personally, guys. All my friends are ferociously attractive. This one is just really talented with magnifying glasses and binoculars) and I suddenly had the urge to make a delicious lemon pudding pie. I had a few baby pie tins on hand, and I had seen the pudding mix in the cupboard, so I grabbed some [ahem, reduced fat] graham crackers at the store and finally had the chance to put it all together. Grandma had gone to bed an hour earlier so I had to be extra quiet with the pots and pans, not to mention I was still jabbering away on the phone. Pudding is one amongst the astounding variety of food weaknesses I possess, and I really enjoy making it from a mix. Just add milk, and ta da! A gorgeous pudding cup, right at your fingertips. For some reason, the pudding gods like to play tricks on me, and my poor heart sank to find that I had to use eggs and milk and water in order to concoct this fancy schmancy lemon pudding. Here is what went wrong:
1. I dropped an egg kersplat inside the refrigerator as I was extracting three for my recipe.
2. I cracked the eggs too hastily and wound up with several pieces of non-retrievable shell in my mixing bowl.
3. I DIDN'T READ THE DIRECTIONS and discovered too late that I was supposed to beat the eggs before adding them to the rest of the ingredients.
4. I put the mix onto the stove to cook and went over to crush graham crackers. Silly old me used my fingers and before I knew it I had a carpal tunnel. Just kidding. That's dramatic. But my hands really hurt. A lot.
5. I tried putting several graham crackers into a small Ziploc bag to crush them, and the bag broke and got graham dust all over the counter.
6. I used WAY too much butter in one graham cracker crust and hardly any in the other. So the separate baby pie tins were both dissatisfied with their inappropriate crusts.
7. I made too much noise and woke Grandma up. She rushed into the kitchen, hands in the air, saying, "I just heard Bill yelling, 'SHIRLEY!' " and then she witnessed her confused surroundings, dropped her arms, and went back to bed. Disclosure: Grandpa Bill is in a rest home. Six miles away. Although he can holler unbelievably loud...
 |
| What a sore disappointment. |
8. I went to stir my pudding and smelled something burning. Brown specks riddled the pretty yellow blob, and upon searching deep down I was horrified to find a thick layer of burnt pudding lining the bottom of the pan. Plusalsoguesswhatelse? The un-pre-beaten eggs hadn't meshed with the rest of the mix, so there were just big bland soft egg chunks throughout the badly tarnished pudding. Plusalsoguesswhatelse? I was supposed to be stirring it the whole time it was on the stove. Why was I blissfully unaware of this vital piece of information? I DIDN'T READ THE DIRECTIONS.
9. I spooned the disgraceful filling generously into my crying baby pie tins. And I took a bite. That was the biggest mistake of all.
10. Wait! Joke's on you. The worst mistake was that the best-looker was verbally present for the entire experience. He laughed and apparently truly enjoyed himself, but I know what was really going on in his head and surely what he told all his buddies the next morning. This chick is whacked, dawg. And therefore I have just about zero chance of marrying a handsome man because I can't make a darn lemon pudding pie.
There are now two baby pie tins glowering at me from the second shelf of the refrigerator. One contains a half-eaten mess of what could have been a beautiful thing. It is half-eaten because I secretly become a ravenous beast at night and will eat the first thing my wild eyes set their sights upon. Yes, that includes small children. And Scotch tape. And Russians. And those cute little porcelain cups that people in England like to drink their afternoon tea out of.
The good news is, three weeks ago I pieced together an obnoxiously yummy (and healthy, to the greatest extent I could fathom) chocolate pudding pie that made me and several of its lucky beneficiaries simply swoon. And guess what? You get the secret recipe! It is only secret because it was accidental by every stretch of the imagination. I'll make it sometime soon, and at that time I'll post the key to your heart's desires. You know you want it. And hey, it's something to look forward to! Who doesn't love a chocolate pudding pie? The answer: throw pillows. And a few breeds of domestic water buffalo. And, from what I hear, an exponentially increasing portion of the Antarctic population. Other than that, you owe it to yourself and the world to make a chocolate pudding pie.
If you feel like you just can't cook to save your life, don't despair! It will come. It may go again, but eventually it will also come back. It's alright; waves are a good thing. They mean you have friends.
Happy baking!
P.S. I think I'm going to start a tradition of {How To} Mondays.
P.P.S. READ THE INSTRUCTIONS.
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