Because I have a million things to do before I leave the freaking country on Saturday, the only thing I want to do, it seems, is play around in the kitchen when I’m home. I was even struck by the rare urge to bake something.
To be honest, I should know better by now. Some people are bakers and some are better at cooking “real” food—I definitely fall into the latter category. I don’t know what it is, but in my hands, the most simplistic confection (except for cookies, which I’m actually good with) turns into a disaster. Still, I find rolling out pie crust soothing (when it’s kept between sheets of wax paper), so I thought I’d make a pie this week.
I asked Chris if he had any requests and he said apple pie is one of his favorites but, hey, how about making apple turnovers? It sounded easy enough. I even found some easy-looking recipes. I chose one and followed it, thinking to myself, “Gee, this is a breeze. Maybe I’ve finally gotten my act together.”
Haha, no dice. When it came time to fold the dang things, it just wasn’t happening. I think I hadn’t rolled the dough thin enough, but I didn’t feel like doing it again, so I thought I’d improvise mini pie-crumb-things.
I cut up some parchment paper and put it in cupcake tins and then pressed a little crust into the bottom. Then I added the filling and baked it all for a bit. Then I took it out of the oven and improvised the most anemic crumble ever—I underestimated the amount of butter I’d need and overestimated the amount of flour required. Whoops. I also neglected to make any brown sugar because I have to get on a step-ladded to reach the molasses and really didn’t feel like it. The things went back into the oven anyway.
Maybe my problem is that I’m lazy about baking. These little creations came out okay, but wow—talk about a long, strange trip. Consider yourself warned: if I ever offer to bake you anything, either politely decline or expect the unexpected.
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