I don't claim to be a good cook. Rachel Ray will never have me on her show and relatives know it's best to eat a light meal before they arrive at my house for dinner, in case something goes astray (and something always goes astray). But darn it, even I should be able to add butter and bake.
Sigh...tis not to be. Last night I made two apple pies, one of which had to be chunked for the most embarrassing of reasons... I forgot to cook it long enough.
See, a neighbor's kid was selling apples for some school trip and of course the cheapest apple tray was something obscene like $39.99 for--are you ready--18 apples. What the hell am I going to do with 18 apples?? I gave what felt like loads away to friends but still had half a fridge left. Blair has a company potluck tomorrow so I thought, "Wouldn't it be nice to bake my man a pie?" (Fortunately, my man has been around long enough to wise up and he made sausage balls to take in as a back up).
Now, when I say "bake a pie," what I mean is I purchase a ready-made frozen pie crust and apple crumble filling. All I have to do is add 6 tablespoons melted butter, stir into the crumble mixture and pour over the apples. Which I did. But I still had 5 apples and more filling and an extra crust, so I plunged in and made another pie.
And here's where I made my error. I slipped my 2nd pie into the oven about 20 minutes after pie #1 had gone in, and walked away. Then, when the timer went off for pie #1, I removed both pies. I commented to Blair that the second pie did not look good, but it didn't dawn on me until more than an hour later what the problem was.
For all my efforts, I got butter on the floor, crumble mixture of the coffee pot, and a pie that looks like a 5-year-olds first effort.
The heck with it. Slice and bake cookies--that's my forte. I bake a mean sugar cookie with a Christmas tree pre-dyed into the center.