Tales from Maggie's Kitchen in 2 parts- Part 2

I'm continuing my days of yore cooking stories,. gather round all ye children and be afraid, very afraid for someday, Miz Magz may actually cook for you!

Story A- Where's a good bakery when you need one?
The chicken was in flames. The pizza was toast. All within one week. For some stupid fucking reason that only the gods of hell would understand, I get some wild hare brained scheme to bake an apple pie. From scratch. I have no idea what I was thinking- maybe that I hadn't experienced enough Kitchen Torture yet? But yeah, I decided to make a homemade apple pie. In the same week that I burned a chicken and a pizza to the point of needing fire extinguisher refills, not once, BUT twice. So oh yes, I should be baking, by all means... NOT!

I would like to see a show of hands from all of you who know there were certain apples you cook with and certain ones you bake with and certain ones you ate raw and certain ones you DID NOT FUCKING EVER WANT TO PUT IN A PIE??? Those of you with your hands up suck. Yeah, you know what is coming. You know. I was 25 years old and had never made a pie in my life. Cut me some slack, please.

I got my cookbook out and made a crust. From scratch. It was very...doughy. And there was lots of flour every where. And I guess there is a reason some recipes say baking soda and other say baking powder- there is a difference. But I managed to not get that right. Then came the apple part. I was really tired from making the dough and shopping. So, I cored the apples and chopped them up and threw them in the pie shell. I tried to make the dough strips on the top, like lattice work, but it looked bad so I just decided to bake it without- think of an open faced pie.

Okay, lots of things are wrong here as I am sure you are figuring. I, um, forgot, to peel the apples. I cored them but I forgot the peeling part. I know it said it in the cookbook, but I think I just overlooked that part. And, as aforementioned apples, I didn't buy the right ones to cook with. Oh no, I ended up with the TARTEST apples in the WORLD. And one tiny minor detail- I forgot the sugar. Oh please, like none of you have ever forgotten any ingredient when cooking before? I'm sure you're thinking this isn't a big deal because it probably went up in flames anyway, right? Well, sort of....... um ............. not exactly.

See the pie bubbled over- pie juice from the apples that I must have left sort of wet from rinsing - and I managed to save it from being blasted with the fire extinguisher that I had to use again. But a potholder stuck to the bottom of the pie pan, so it went into the oven, and then fell to the bottom of the oven and caught fire so I yanked the pie out of the oven and sprayed the pot holder lying on the bottom. Yep, flames. Not big ones, but flames nonetheless. The pie looked okay otherwise. So I have a flaming ovenmit and a saved pie and another damn fire extinguisher to refill. And 4 year old Mac singing, "we're goin' to Pizza Hut, we're going to Pizza Hut..."

So, a guy, a date sort of guy, came over after dinner and Mac and I serve the pie. I am all proud. I even managed to get the smell of singed and smoked ovenmit out of the house. The pie looked fine, but tasted horrible. The guy actually spit his bite back onto the plate. So did I. So did Mac. Mac actually uttered , "Mommy, this doesn't taste like the ones we get at McDonald's." Oh and it was the last date with that guy.

The next day I just went to the fire station and I think they were afraid to laugh. I said one word: "pie." They just filled the sucker up, handed it to me and let me leave. I swear the strained sounds of muffled cackling laughter so did not waft in the air behind me.

Story B- I Swear I have nothing against chickens!

I was making hard boiled eggs, or trying to make them. I brought the water to a rolling boil, then gently dropped in the eggs. And they would explode and pop. And splatter all over the stove, me, the exhaust overhang thingy. I do this to an entire dozen eggs. Each one explodes. I have scrambled egg looking goo floating in the water and all over the place. I am pissed. I call my mother and the conversation is something like this:

me: I got defective eggs at the store. An entire dozen. I am so gonna call there and complain. They can't go selling bad food. Especially dairy. That is so wrong. Someone could've gotten sick or got salmonella or botulism because of these things.

mom: what was wrong with the eggs? Rotten?

me: No, I was trying to hard boil them and all they did was break, pop and explode. I have egg crap all over the damn place!

mom: what do you mean explode? Did you do it in the microwave or something?

me: no, I boiled the water, dropped in the eggs, and just *bam*- exploding everywhere. I am so gonna call the manager...Mom, why are you laughing, mom, are you there? Breath mama, breath!

mom: *sounds of gasping for air though hysterical laughter and wiping away tears.*

Guess I should have put the cold eggs in cold water, then turned the pan on. Ooops.

And thus concludes Maggie's cooking escapades. Now, I would like to tell you all that I have gotten so much better over the years and rarely do I have cooking fiascoes that in any way, shape or form resemble these stories.

I make a wonderful egg plant parmesan. I have a recipe for homemade tomato sauce that tastes like granny from Italy would make. I make homemade pasta (with a rolling pin and knife, not a pasta maker). I love to make yeast rolls, Hungarian pecan tassies, pork chops with apple stuffing, braised lamb chops with apricot glaze, pot roast in a red wine sauce... these are just a few dishes from my current cooking repertoire. So see, time does heal all... cooking mistakes.

I'm smokin' hot,

Maggie