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FourSecondsLonger of Celeste
Dec. 22nd, 2024 08:47 pmI felt miserable enough today that I caved and gave myself one of our few remaining covid tests. The Diva is supposed to come tomorrow, and I don't want her to arrive in a locale that is not only disheveled and dusty, but plague-ridden. However, the test was quite definitively negative. I'll probably get better long before I find a diagnosis. It is to be hoped so, anyway.
Today I succeeded in taking a shower and making two apple pies. We attended a pre-Christmas potluck. I took one of the pies there, but they didn't even eat it all. I hope this isn't an indication of its inferiority. But there were a lot of things that didn't get eaten, including a bunch of rice krispie treats, which people usually toss down their pie hole with insouciance. So maybe they were all avoiding sugar. The pies were an experiment. It wasn't a total failure, but I wasn't satisfied, either. I had a bowl of Northern Spies that I had planned to use earlier. The Northern Spy is a bold, broad-shouldered apple with a deep sweetness at its heart. Not an apple to wasted. They should be appreciated and treated with respect. Then I had some phyllo dough that one of the kids had bought and stashed in the freezer for an experiment of their own. I had rashly taken it out to be used up on one of those days when I foolishly thought I was feeling better. The time had come to fish or cut bait with these items, because they won't last forever. So I tried using the phyllo as pie crust. It looked very handsome when cooked. The Sparrowhawk says it wasn't as good as my own pie crust, but I'm not sure about that.
I didn't bake it quite as long as I normally would, because I was afraid of burning the very delicate crust. Unforeseen result: the juice didn't coagulate as much as normal. It stayed very syrupy, and thus when the pie was tilted in removing it from the car, juice cascaded all over everything and I had to do emergency cleanup of a not entirely satisfactory nature. I'll have to go out tomorrow when there's light to see, and wash up the back seat before anyone sits in pie juice. On tasting it, I wasn't totally happy either. I doubled a recipe, and I think the result, while technically correct, had a little too much sugar and too much nutmeg. It's fine for those who like those things, but my favored proportions are different. I question my sanity in making pie instead of cleaning more, but the Sparrowhawk claims it is important. Pie is the manifestion of love, he says, and only I can do it. (Around here, that is.) I hope he's right. Going to bed (again) without cleaning anything. I wanted to help set the tree up tonight, but I can't.
Today I succeeded in taking a shower and making two apple pies. We attended a pre-Christmas potluck. I took one of the pies there, but they didn't even eat it all. I hope this isn't an indication of its inferiority. But there were a lot of things that didn't get eaten, including a bunch of rice krispie treats, which people usually toss down their pie hole with insouciance. So maybe they were all avoiding sugar. The pies were an experiment. It wasn't a total failure, but I wasn't satisfied, either. I had a bowl of Northern Spies that I had planned to use earlier. The Northern Spy is a bold, broad-shouldered apple with a deep sweetness at its heart. Not an apple to wasted. They should be appreciated and treated with respect. Then I had some phyllo dough that one of the kids had bought and stashed in the freezer for an experiment of their own. I had rashly taken it out to be used up on one of those days when I foolishly thought I was feeling better. The time had come to fish or cut bait with these items, because they won't last forever. So I tried using the phyllo as pie crust. It looked very handsome when cooked. The Sparrowhawk says it wasn't as good as my own pie crust, but I'm not sure about that.
I didn't bake it quite as long as I normally would, because I was afraid of burning the very delicate crust. Unforeseen result: the juice didn't coagulate as much as normal. It stayed very syrupy, and thus when the pie was tilted in removing it from the car, juice cascaded all over everything and I had to do emergency cleanup of a not entirely satisfactory nature. I'll have to go out tomorrow when there's light to see, and wash up the back seat before anyone sits in pie juice. On tasting it, I wasn't totally happy either. I doubled a recipe, and I think the result, while technically correct, had a little too much sugar and too much nutmeg. It's fine for those who like those things, but my favored proportions are different. I question my sanity in making pie instead of cleaning more, but the Sparrowhawk claims it is important. Pie is the manifestion of love, he says, and only I can do it. (Around here, that is.) I hope he's right. Going to bed (again) without cleaning anything. I wanted to help set the tree up tonight, but I can't.
