Tag Archives: baking

The Pie Plot Thickens

14 Sep

My apartment has been overrun by pie.

For those of you just tuning in, I’m at war with Dave.  A few Tuesdays ago, I made a genuine attempt to craft an apple pie from naught but the loins of the earth and tragically failed.  I ended up with a miserable lump of doughy fruit that promptly got ignored like a red-headed stepchild and thrown in the garbage.

It was a hard day.

I came home the following evening to the warm, enraging smell of an apple pie in the oven.  Dave was one-upping me.  He saw my pie and raised me a better pie.  A tasty one.  Actually, an incredibly delicious one.

It was a brief war, as I had no tolerance for his flippant pie baking and decided that if he wanted to be the head pastry chef, he could go right ahead and be such.  After all, there’s nothing that makes my blood boil quite like rolling out pie dough.  And it’d be nice to ask him to whip up a pie for special occasions, host gifts, and celebrations of all kinds.

Expecting it to be a quickly satiated passion, I left Dave to his own devices – but he was not so swiftly stifled.

First there was an apple peeler.  Then official lard (as opposed to shortening) for the crust.  There’s just an enormous tub of lard sitting in my fridge at all times.  Do you know that today he looked up what the best kind of lard was and concluded it was lard made from kidney fat?!  Absolutely revolting.  And apples by the bundle.  They’re everywhere.  I have nightmares of hallways of Granny Smith apples rolling at me like a tidal wave.  I run and run, but I can’t ever get far enough from their reach.

Dave is making pies so often that he’s moved everything off the kitchen counter and asked if the flour can just stay there over night because “he’s just going to get it out and do the same thing tomorrow”.  

He says cutting apples is meditative.

So I mean, here it is.  This is it.  Dave is clearly my cash cow.   I think it’s time I really buck up and admit this is the moneymaker.  We’ll put a nice zen spin on it since it all centers his chi so fantastically well.  I’ll have a little cartoon of him drawn all goofy and seated in meditation with a little pastry chef hat balancing on his head.  We’ll call them Zen Pies and we’ll make millions.

Or maybe just a few hundred at some Farmers Markets.  

But I imagine my chi will be slightly more centered with an apartment that reeks of pastries and a wallet with a little more wiggle room.

This, boys and girls, is my million dollar thousand dollar idea. ♣

Notice the orchid and fall decorations – both featured in posts of their own. Proof, ladies and gentlemen, that I am a real human being with real posts and a real struggling orchid.

The Thing About Baking Cookies Is

27 Apr

File:Raw cookie dough in cookie clumps.jpg

When I die, I’m fairly certain it will be from salmonellosis.  And soon.

I have personally ingested more raw cookie dough in my 25 years than all the children you know combined.   My mother constantly yelled at me when I was little for getting into it.  In my defense, my mother owned a cake business and it’s ridiculous to let your child help and not expect them to lick every leftover bowl.

It was the fun part.

The awesome thing is that I’m all grown up now and I can have raw cookie dough whenever I want it.  I’ve been known to bake entire batches of brownies, and cookies, – even an entire cake – simply to eat the batter and dough.    Don’t get me wrong – it’s not bad when it comes out of the oven, but I really prefer it prior.

The problem seems to be that I’ve slowly changed my method from cleaning the well-scraped bowl to blatantly picking up entire gobs of it at a time.  I made an enormous container of chocolate chip cookies last night and managed to eat 5 baked cookies and close to their equal weight in raw cookie dough.

And it was delicious.

I think the only way to stop myself is to stop baking altogether.  There’s no resisting the powerful call of sugary, raw beauty.  Quite frankly, I suck at resistance.  But I really don’t want to stop because I just love baking so darn much.  Making cookies is one of the most therapeutic activities I can possible conjure.  All the ingredients are simple and delicious, the recipe is easy, you can mix it with your hands, and everyone loves them.  Baking cookies tends to all my major needs.  Just one batch of cookies provides a myriad of benefits:

  • satisfies my craving for chocolate
  • makes me feel like I’m doing something productive
  • gives me something to show Dave I lurve him
  • have a backup gift or host’s gift ready at all times
  • gives me a reason to listen to rock out to music between batches
  • provides a killer arm workout by hand mixing cold sticks of butter
  • improves my sense of time lapse by not setting a timer and trying to “feel” when they are done
  • is a great chance to eat a startling amount of cookie dough

How can I possible resist making them when there are so many positive outcomes?

So if I don’t post tomorrow morning, it’s safe to assume I’ve been hospitalized for symptoms of salmonellosis.  I’ll update as soon as I can convince the nurse I have a successful blog to maintain.  

It might be a while. ♣


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