Yesterday was my dad's 58th birthday. Fifty. Eight.
Daddy! :(
To honor him... and because this last year I've taken to hanging out in the kitchen, I baked him an apricot-pinapple-walnut pie.
This was originally supposed to be my little specialty of empanadas that I wasn't going to touch-- hence the disgusting pineapple...
... but I fucked up on the dough (who knew using gluten-free oat flour was going to be STUPID and render a fucking stiff as fuck dough? Not I. That was a very unpleasant news-flash for me).
In my fit of rage, I tossed the dough in a pie tin... and started punching it.
Yeah. I did.
After punching the dough about twenty times... I thought "Fuck it, let's do a motherfucking pie then."
I've never baked a pie. I didn't even know we had a fucking pie tin until I almost threw it away when I bumped into it while in a frantic search for a cookie sheet.
So, I made the bottom layer... punched that shit as thinly as possible, smoothing out any holes my bony knuckles made... and then I added the apricot-pinapple-walnut filling. I finished it by stacking the crumbling strips of the fucking incredibly stupid dough on top. I covered it in egg-wash (my attempt to keep the "crust" together), crossed my fingers, and popped it in the oven.
I had somewhere to be, so as the stupid pie baked, I showered and got ready to leave.
On my way out of the house (with my casserole-full of enchiladas, mind you. I told you, I'm hitting the fucking kitchen with a vengeance!), I took the pie out of the oven, dusted it with a mix of confectioner's sugar and cinnamon, and dashed out of the house.
Before leaving, I did give ONE instruction:
My pie was meant for my nuclear family's eyes... no one else. I'd fucking die if anyone else in this universe saw that offensive excuse for a pie. Imagine a party of nothing but Dad's relatives? Fuck. That.
I was supposed to come back home before the party started... but I was so happy hanging out with my friends (and eating german chocolate/gummy bears), that I lost track of time, and ended up getting home an hour after Dad's party had started.
Oops! My bad, Daddy! You still love me, right? I mean, you hate parties anyway!
When I walked to where the noise was emanating from, to my utter HORROR I saw that not only was my pie in full view... but completely demolished.
What the fuuuuuuckkkkkk?! N-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! That shit was UGLY! Who touched it?! Who defiled my already-hideous pie?!
After greeting everyone standing between me and FrankenPie, I saw my aunt serving herself a fourth of what would have been the entire pie... only leaving about... a sixth.
Aunt: This was some GREAT pie, Mija! YOU did it?!
Should I lie...
Me: Yeah. I created that beast...
Own your mistakes, pendeja.
Aunt: It. Is. DELICIOUS!
You're... joking... right?
D: So you DID do it?!
Me: Yeah. You ATE it?!
D: I knew it tasted like your style! But I was like "since when does AnoMALIE know how to bake pies?!"
Me: I don't.
Jesus Christ... did I just write up an entire post on a fucking PIE?!
Sh'Oh did.
Lesson learned: I'm a motherfukin' ARTIST, regardless of the medium!
Not.
It's more along the lines of... "Don't judge a book by its cover," "It's what's on the inside that counts," and more importantly "DON'T EVER TRY USING GLUTEN-FREE OAT FLOUR ON EMPANADA DOUGH!"
Daddy! :(
To honor him... and because this last year I've taken to hanging out in the kitchen, I baked him an apricot-pinapple-walnut pie.
This was originally supposed to be my little specialty of empanadas that I wasn't going to touch-- hence the disgusting pineapple...
... but I fucked up on the dough (who knew using gluten-free oat flour was going to be STUPID and render a fucking stiff as fuck dough? Not I. That was a very unpleasant news-flash for me).
In my fit of rage, I tossed the dough in a pie tin... and started punching it.
Yeah. I did.
After punching the dough about twenty times... I thought "Fuck it, let's do a motherfucking pie then."
I've never baked a pie. I didn't even know we had a fucking pie tin until I almost threw it away when I bumped into it while in a frantic search for a cookie sheet.
So, I made the bottom layer... punched that shit as thinly as possible, smoothing out any holes my bony knuckles made... and then I added the apricot-pinapple-walnut filling. I finished it by stacking the crumbling strips of the fucking incredibly stupid dough on top. I covered it in egg-wash (my attempt to keep the "crust" together), crossed my fingers, and popped it in the oven.
I had somewhere to be, so as the stupid pie baked, I showered and got ready to leave.
On my way out of the house (with my casserole-full of enchiladas, mind you. I told you, I'm hitting the fucking kitchen with a vengeance!), I took the pie out of the oven, dusted it with a mix of confectioner's sugar and cinnamon, and dashed out of the house.
Before leaving, I did give ONE instruction:
Mom, when this cools down, PLEASE HIDE it. I don't want anyone seeing, much less tasting, this garbage (that I only baked because gluten-free oat flour costs an eye out of the face!).I left that instruction because my aunt was going to drop by the house to throw Pops a surprise party.
My pie was meant for my nuclear family's eyes... no one else. I'd fucking die if anyone else in this universe saw that offensive excuse for a pie. Imagine a party of nothing but Dad's relatives? Fuck. That.
I was supposed to come back home before the party started... but I was so happy hanging out with my friends (and eating german chocolate/gummy bears), that I lost track of time, and ended up getting home an hour after Dad's party had started.
Oops! My bad, Daddy! You still love me, right? I mean, you hate parties anyway!
When I walked to where the noise was emanating from, to my utter HORROR I saw that not only was my pie in full view... but completely demolished.
What the fuuuuuuckkkkkk?! N-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! That shit was UGLY! Who touched it?! Who defiled my already-hideous pie?!
After greeting everyone standing between me and FrankenPie, I saw my aunt serving herself a fourth of what would have been the entire pie... only leaving about... a sixth.
Aunt: This was some GREAT pie, Mija! YOU did it?!
Should I lie...
Me: Yeah. I created that beast...
Own your mistakes, pendeja.
Aunt: It. Is. DELICIOUS!
You're... joking... right?
D: So you DID do it?!
Me: Yeah. You ATE it?!
D: I knew it tasted like your style! But I was like "since when does AnoMALIE know how to bake pies?!"
Me: I don't.
Jesus Christ... did I just write up an entire post on a fucking PIE?!
Sh'Oh did.
Lesson learned: I'm a motherfukin' ARTIST, regardless of the medium!
Not.
It's more along the lines of... "Don't judge a book by its cover," "It's what's on the inside that counts," and more importantly "DON'T EVER TRY USING GLUTEN-FREE OAT FLOUR ON EMPANADA DOUGH!"
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