as usual, i didn't learn from past mistakes and i attempted to bake a pumpkin pie for thanksgiving.
i don't even like pumpkin pie. in all fairness, i've never actually tried it, but the orange color and the smell and the texture have prevented me from doing so. i only have so much room in my body, and frankly, i'd rather fill it with fruit salad and mashed potatoes. and gravy. lots of gravy. in fact, forget the salad and taters - just gravy. with a side of gravy.
back to the pie... i saw a recipe online that caught my eye, and figured i should contribute something to the feast, since my parents do everything else. i am 30 and own a home, isn't it time i helped out with thanksgiving dinner? usually i just stand around and drink wine and dip into the chocolate fountain while they slave over a hot stove. i throw out the obligatory "can i do anything to help?" every half hour or so, knowing full well that they won't let me. but in order to keep my Best Daughter Ever title, i still gotta ask.
so the pie... i don't typically know what goes in a pumpkin pie. i would presume pumpkin, some sugar, a little of this, a little of that. but what got my attention was the rum. there's rum in this thing? if i'd have known that, i would have tried one years ago. note: any food with alcohol in it is automatically good. even if it's bad, it's good. because as you're eating it, you're getting drunk, so by the time you're done eating it, you don't even notice how bad it is, and you find yourself going back for seconds. and seconds are nice.
so i buy all the supplies... lug them up to my parents' house... forgetting the all important pie crust. so i send bryan to the grocery store (like i'm gonna brave the madness? sha. besides, these chocolate-covered cherries need looking after.) and he comes back with a graham crust. i don't really know the difference, so whatever.
day of. while we're eating dinner, dad's pies go in first (my dad's apple pies are like manna.) they finish, so i stick my pumpkin pie in, right after showing bryan my beautiful work of art - see bryan? your wife is totally domestic? see how i mixed random ingredients together and poured them in this crust? see how much i rock?
mom forgets my pie is in the oven (no one appreciates me) and turns the oven off. exactly 40 minutes later (and 2 glasses of wine), i am amazed to see that my pie is all wobbly. this can't be right.
10 minutes later... same thing.
another 10 minutes later... same thing.
bryan walks by - the oven's not on you dimwit. he didn't actually say dimwit, but i am sure he was thinking it. bastard.
i turn the knob to the right temperature, and go back to my wine.
20 minutes later - the pie has not changed in form or texture. damn martha stewart to hell!
bryan walks by again - you forgot to turn it to 'bake' you stupid bitch. he probably actually said sweetie, but i know what he really thinks of me.
i turn it to bake, and relieved that it is finally going to work, i go back to the living room.
ooooo, they're playing the wii! my turn my turn! i am sooooo gonna kick your collective asses people.
geez, when did i become such a potty mouth?
1 hour later. shit.
burnt to a crisp. my parents joke about the 'chocolate pie' in the kitchen. that's IT. my domestic days are over. i should stick to what i know best... takeout, shoes and champagne.
hope everyone had a happy thanksgiving.