Here’s some stuff that has made me happy this week:
1) iPhone
I have one. And it’s good. I’ve only been caught kissing it twice. And for one of those, I was able to convince the person that it was lip-recognition security. The other time, the guy who caught me was like, “get a room!” Ha. Little does he know, we already did. For two nights.
2) Penn State football
Yes, I’d be happier if they hadn’t lost to Iowa two weeks ago (Nobo, J, and family, I can’t help but feel that you guys are somehow responsible). But still, they’re the Big Ten champs and they’re going to the Rose Bowl. And they beat Ohio State this year. Boo ya.
3) Pie
My boy and I made a pumpkin pie together today. I’m not gonna say it was my best effort, but it was fun, and it tastes good - just not great. I’m getting pie-snobbish enough now that I kind of don’t like the frozen crusts that I had gotten so comfortable using. Next time, I figure I’ll try again to make my own crust.
4) Teeth and a mature digestive system
Because that stuff that babies eat, it looks nasty.
5) My daughter and her genius
Not yet seven months old, and she’s already politely greeting her father. At least, that’s what I hear:
So the recipe said I was supposed to bake it for 20 minutes covered in foil, then remove the foil and continue baking for another 25 minutes. That first 20 minutes was like torture, because no matter how many times I pressed the “oven light” button and peeked in, I couldn’t see how it was going. It was tense like election day, minus the significance to anyone in the world except me.
Finally the oven beeped, and I pulled it out. Naturally, when I removed the foil, I also removed no less than three small patches of crust, as well as a big chunk of the edge of the crust. [sigh.] Dejected, I threw the pie back in the oven. The only tension for the remaining 25 minutes came from me deciding which excuse I was going to use for why I didn’t have a pie. My kid accidentally pulled it off the counter while it was cooling? My dog ate it? We had a surprise visit from out of town friends, so we ended up needing to eat the pie in order to have something to offer our guests? So many choices… but I was interrupted by the oven beeping once again.
(The color quality isn’t great because it is a picture from my cell phone, as it wasn’t even worth me getting out the good camera.)
I went and got ready for bed while it cooled. I figured that I’d at least have to try it before throwing it out. When it was mostly cooled, I cut out a piece. And then I used a spoon to get all the pie filling that didn’t stay properly in the piece I cut. Then I took a bite. A bite of awesomeness. It tasted wonderful, probably in no small part because it was sweet enough for me to get blacklisted by the American Diabetes Association. And I didn’t even know they blacklisted people. I wrapped up the rest of my pie and went to bed with the fear of being outright embarrassed lifted from my shoulders.
When I got to work, I quickly went to task on scoping out the competing pies. And in no time, my insecurities came back. Because as good as I thought mine tasted, it looked a mess. All the other pies looked good. With regard to looks, if their pies were Halle Berry, my pie was Chuck Berry. The rules of the contest said that each of the 5 contestants had to bring two judges. And as much as I tried, I could not find two blind judges who really liked sweets before lunch hour. So I picked one of my coworkers and one of my student employees.
What followed was something that was like half fantasy, half nightmare. There was a table, and the table had FIFTY small slices of pie, each on a numbered plate. It was a scene that would bring a tear to any pie-lover’s eye. But then came the nightmare part - I couldn’t eat any of it. All of the slices were for the judges. And so I nervously sat, watching others indulge in the kind of gluttony that I had always hoped to be a part of. Each judge had a score sheet, and they were jotting down their observations after each bite. This went on for almost a half hour. Finally, all the scores were in. And though I want to draw this out longer, I won’t:
I WON!!
In spite of the comments about how my pie looked “kind of destroyed,” the taste won over 5 of the 10 judges, which was enough to eek out a victory by one vote over one of the Halle Berry pies. At the end, I did get a chance to take a few bites of some of the other pies, and I came to the realization that though I won, I didn’t really win. The judges did.
For longtime readers of my old blog, this first part will be a bit of a review.
I like pie. I like pie so much, that in November of 2005, I said, “hey, if I like pie so much, why don’t I make them so that I don’t have to wait around for other people to do it?” Over the next 7 or 8 months, I made a pie each month, and chronicled the making/tasting of each pie on my old blog. It’s still there, if you know the old address and you’re curious, go back and look. Choose “Pie of the Month” from the category listing.
I officially broke up with pie-making in August 2006, following a string of epic pie failures. However, each of the past two Novembers, I have felt inspired to step back in the kitchen and make pumpkin pies. That was the first kind of pie I ever made, and I still consider pumpkin to be my specialty. So during a recent trip to the grocery store, I picked up a frozen pie crust and some pumpkin pie supplies. (And I’m not talking about that pre-made pumpkin pie filling in a can, that’s cheating.)
Then fate stepped in. The very next day, I got an email from a coworker who was staging an apple pie bake-off on November 14th. Now, if you do remember, or if you went back and read the archives, you’ll see that apple was the second pie I attempted to make. And it was, in almost every way, a disaster. Yet I thought that this was a sign, that I had just purchased pie-making supplies, and now someone invited me in on a pie-making challenge. So I accepted.
And then I panicked. Because seriously, that apple pie I made in ‘05 was offensive, and I haven’t attempted it since. But the wife brought me down off the ledge, and I committed myself to finding a good recipe and giving it a go. And if it turned out horrible, I’d “forget” to bring my pie in on the day of the contest.
I settled on a caramel apple pie recipe. I did have to go buy some additional supplies for this pie, particularly apples. And though I had meant to research apple varieties prior to going to the store, I forgot. So the boy and I stood there in front of a dozen kinds of apples, neither of us quite sure of what to do. (He attempted to help by pulling off the most bruised and battered looking apples and saying, “how about this one?”) So I did something I’m not proud of. I called my mom. And she was like, “oh yeah, any time I make an apple pie, I always use [this kind]. Unless there’s a sale on [other kind], because I kind of think those taste better. But [yet another kind] tends to hold up better when baking and not get too mushy, but you don’t want to get something that’s too firm either, like [a fourth kind], even though that’s what your grandmother always uses and it always comes out good.” Clearly, she did not sense the “I need direction, please just name one kind of apple” tone in my voice. I ended up grabbing a few different kinds and leaving.
My self-confidence was doing well as I started assembling the ingredients:
And when I filled the crust, I actually started to believe that I might be able to pull it off:
But similar to last time, my confidence was virtually smashed by the top crust, which I ONCE AGAIN failed miserably at … what’s the word, applying? Installing? That’s how much I suck at two-crust pies. I don’t even know the lingo.
Some of my more kind readers are like, “but Omar, that doesn’t look too bad!” I’ll admit that it’s better than last time, but hardly the “good seal” between crusts that the recipe called for. It had more holes than… nothing appropriate can follow that, so I’ll end part I here.
(Stay tuned for part two, which will include a photo of the finished product as well as results of the bake-off.)
The Boy turned 4 years old over the weekend. This is true. Also true are four of the following five stories. One of them, however, is a lie. A good lie, if there is such a thing. Your job is to find that lie. Sniff it out like a bloodhound. Pick it like a nose. Find it like it’s name is Waldo. And so on.
1) We had a brunch party for the boy, because he said he wanted to eat breakfast food. I was thrilled, not just because I like breakfast food also, but because it gave me the opportunity to make waffles. When the guests came, I proceeded to pressure all of them to have a waffle. Have I said lately that I love making waffles?
2) I considered buying myself a present for the occasion: a vasectomy.
3) As I was shopping for birthday presents for the boy, I found more items to add to my own Christmas list than I found for him. Did I mention that I was shopping in Toys R Us? Because I was. I’m not proud.
4) Out of nowhere, the boy told me that he wanted an iPhone for his birthday. He’s only ever seen one at the local Apple store, though he does like my iPod touch, and he always calls it an iPhone. I don’t correct him, because I also like to sometimes pretend like it’s an iPhone. And though I never really gave it serious thought, I did consider checking eBay for a used iPod touch.
5) The boy got a golf bag and a few more clubs as a present from his grandparents. The happiest part of my day was watching him put the bag over his shoulder (even though he only did it because we were making him do it). And if my excitement wasn’t enough, I think my dad almost shed a tear. That’s how much we love our golf.