Sunday, October 14, 2007


I haven't been able to successfully bake a bun in my metaphorical oven, but I baked a pie today in my literal one. I did a favor for an older relative last weekend that involved no real effort on my part, not expecting anything in return. I was therefore surprised and grateful when she gave me olive oil, cheddar cheese, and apples. I made a grilled cheese today with some of the cheese and decided to use some of the apples to make a pie.

I consider myself to be a decent cook (which is surprising to those who know me but have never eaten in my home) but have always been terrible at baking. I like cooking because it allows for some improvisation, some creativity, neither of which is firmly within my comfort zone. Baking doesn't allow for that kind of flexibility and requires lots of measuring. The rest of my life is anal, uptight, and over-planned. I like the kitchen to be different. For some reason, pie has always been the one bright spot in my otherwise dreadful baking efforts. I almost don't want to cut into it, it looks so pretty.

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