Last weekend on Thanksgiving, I was given the task of making the pies. Actually I appointed myself, because I love pies and I wanted to make them, so I designated myself the dessert lady.
Anyways, I made four pies. Two pumpkin, one apple, and one blueberry. Neen made the blueberry actually, but I made the dough for it.
So here we have four lovely pies to wash down our turkey feast on Sunday evening. All we had to do was bake them, and I would be the ultimate dessert lady of the evening.
We didn't eat the pies until a while after dinner. They were sitting on the stove top, looking so alluring and delicious in their golden fruity goodness. In attendance were the Fixsens, my family who live at home, and Adrianna; who came for Thanksgiving because her family went away without her.
Everyone there (and most people I know actually) knew how passionate I am about pie. Also, my sisters Jaima and Janine are both award winning pie makers, so this was a tense situation. At last we tucked into my delicious pies.
They were not so delicious.
They had been put in the oven after the turkey was cooked, and smelled up the oven with it's turkey fumes. They tasted like ash.
At first everyone took polite bites and hid their grimaces behind smiles. Then Neen pointed out that the blueberries tasted funny. Then Jaima did like wise with the pumpkin. My beautiful pies, ruined!
Oh well, I guess every cook has to have a few mishaps.