It's All About the Pie
Let me be clear. Cooking is not my passion. Nor is it my calling. There were times in my life when it was my nemesis. It may have started when I attempted to bake my first cake. I was ten. It was a cake from a Jiffy box. Something went terribly wrong. It didn’t rise and resembled a very large pancake. A few years later, my mother (a working mom) tried to find easy dinner solutions that we could get started before she got home. This was wonderfully timed with the introduction of “Hamburger Helper.” All you needed to do is brown the ground beef and follow the directions on the box. We were also lucky enough to experience the introduction of the cooking bag. My sister and I were even challenged at the simple task of preheating the oven. On our first attempt, we forgot to remove the broiler pan from the oven which had grease from another meal, and before we knew it we had flames leaping inside the oven. I can only imagine the panic our mom had when we called her at work to ask her what to do if the oven was on fire. We ended up dumping an entire 5 lb. bag of flour into the oven. It put out the fire, and I think extinguished our cooking careers as well.
When I was in high school there was a tradition for anyone dating a football player during the homecoming game. The day before the big game, you decorated their car, embroidered a pillowcase for their bedroom, and baked some wonderful treat. I decided to bake my boyfriend’s favorite – a blueberry pie. Young love karma must have been watching over me, because the pie was a masterpiece and I was the object of his affection for many days following. I learned that if you wanted to get a guy’s attention, bake a pie.
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