VERY MESSY
Yes, I'm messy.
But somehow I've got several rooms in the house that are consistently neat.
Well, I've got to admit; it helps when someone helps you twice a month.
Yes, I guess it does.
I cook, things spill and splatter.
I wanted to make a pumpkin pie at my mom's house.
So I went to Bill's Superette, said hi to the guys on the bench drinking beer inside paper bags and bought:
a pumpkin, mom's cigarettes, a big box of white wine with a spout, and cookies, coloring books and candy for the kids.
"Charge it!"...to my mom of course.
The kids are happy. Mom's happy, so now I cook.
First of all, let's cook the pumpkin. I can do this!
Time to cleave the pumpkin with Dad's biggest knife.
To do this you must whack the knife in a quarter inch.
Then turn it so the knife is on top, start hacking downward.
This pumpkin is tough!
Now I have to bang the whole works up and down on the counter, bam! bam! bam!
...there, the pumpkin finally cracks open.
I'm exhausted.
Scoop out the seeds and save for toasting.
(you'd think I'd realize by the time that when I'm finished with this project, the cleanup's going to be so dramatic that no one's going to feel like toasting the darn seeds!?)
Now, put the pumpkin chunks in water in Mom's biggest pot and set to boil.
Go sit down.
After 45 minutes check with a knife.
Nope, took so long to get to a boil, the pumpkin's still tough as nails.
Water must have just started boiling.
Now, forget about the whole project while you read the paper.
Front page is boring. Sports? Toss it! Business section? No way.
Ahh, the funnies and Dear Abby...hmmmmmmmmmm...
Quick, RUSH in to check! (who knows how much later? I certainly wasn't paying attention.)
The pumpkin flesh is REALLY soft now. Baby food soft.
Now I will drain off gallons of water with most of the vitamins wrung out.
The pot is too hot, too big and too clumsy to do this now, but I can't wait! Orange water splooshes onto the floor, the stainless steel counter and probably into the plug thingie, thus creating a VERY DANGEROUS situation.
WOW! I got shocked!
Just wipe up the liquid with a sponge and test the counter carefully.
If there are no more shocks, continue.
My husband wondered why no one had died in this room.
I explained that my family did not understand electricity, steel and water.
It was magic and you just had to work around it.
Finally I have pumpkin goo ready for the pie.
Scan the recipe out of Mom's wedding gift of 40 years ago: Joy of Cooking.
It's so cool, it even tells how to clean clams and cook game...even possum.
Game is usally so gamey, don't you think?
Wait a minute! PAY ATTENTION! Don't get off task!
So I pour in rough amounts of milk, sugar, a bunch of eggs and some spices.
Stirring the thick orangie paste is awesome...or in '70's lingo: Cool, Man!
Now, where is the pie crust? Oh, yeah, remember those odd looking cubes of pie crust-to-go? Smash it down, add water, flatten, roll too much for tenderness' sake, but nevermind, go ahead, pat it into a pan.
Pour the huge amount of filling from the huge bowl into the tippy pie pan on the damp stainless steel counter and hope for the best, cuz the bowl's tipping out of control, and one pie pan is not going to work!!!!
"HELP!"
Here comes mom, but not before a full third of the filling is slopped onto the counter, sink and floor. (probably the walls, too)
I'm messy, the kitchen's messy and the pie is messy.
Mom cooks and serves. I agonize over my lack of discipline.
Oh, well, nothing new. It seemed like a good idea. Next time I'm using canned.
My mom cleans up, I'm too overwhelmed...need a nap.
But later on...MAN, that pie is GOO~OOD!
I bask in culinary contentment.
Yes, I'm messy.
But somehow I've got several rooms in the house that are consistently neat.
Well, I've got to admit; it helps when someone helps you twice a month.
Yes, I guess it does.
I cook, things spill and splatter.
I wanted to make a pumpkin pie at my mom's house.
So I went to Bill's Superette, said hi to the guys on the bench drinking beer inside paper bags and bought:
a pumpkin, mom's cigarettes, a big box of white wine with a spout, and cookies, coloring books and candy for the kids.
"Charge it!"...to my mom of course.
The kids are happy. Mom's happy, so now I cook.
First of all, let's cook the pumpkin. I can do this!
Time to cleave the pumpkin with Dad's biggest knife.
To do this you must whack the knife in a quarter inch.
Then turn it so the knife is on top, start hacking downward.
This pumpkin is tough!
Now I have to bang the whole works up and down on the counter, bam! bam! bam!
...there, the pumpkin finally cracks open.
I'm exhausted.
Scoop out the seeds and save for toasting.
(you'd think I'd realize by the time that when I'm finished with this project, the cleanup's going to be so dramatic that no one's going to feel like toasting the darn seeds!?)
Now, put the pumpkin chunks in water in Mom's biggest pot and set to boil.
Go sit down.
After 45 minutes check with a knife.
Nope, took so long to get to a boil, the pumpkin's still tough as nails.
Water must have just started boiling.
Now, forget about the whole project while you read the paper.
Front page is boring. Sports? Toss it! Business section? No way.
Ahh, the funnies and Dear Abby...hmmmmmmmmmm...
Quick, RUSH in to check! (who knows how much later? I certainly wasn't paying attention.)
The pumpkin flesh is REALLY soft now. Baby food soft.
Now I will drain off gallons of water with most of the vitamins wrung out.
The pot is too hot, too big and too clumsy to do this now, but I can't wait! Orange water splooshes onto the floor, the stainless steel counter and probably into the plug thingie, thus creating a VERY DANGEROUS situation.
WOW! I got shocked!
Just wipe up the liquid with a sponge and test the counter carefully.
If there are no more shocks, continue.
My husband wondered why no one had died in this room.
I explained that my family did not understand electricity, steel and water.
It was magic and you just had to work around it.
Finally I have pumpkin goo ready for the pie.
Scan the recipe out of Mom's wedding gift of 40 years ago: Joy of Cooking.
It's so cool, it even tells how to clean clams and cook game...even possum.
Game is usally so gamey, don't you think?
Wait a minute! PAY ATTENTION! Don't get off task!
So I pour in rough amounts of milk, sugar, a bunch of eggs and some spices.
Stirring the thick orangie paste is awesome...or in '70's lingo: Cool, Man!
Now, where is the pie crust? Oh, yeah, remember those odd looking cubes of pie crust-to-go? Smash it down, add water, flatten, roll too much for tenderness' sake, but nevermind, go ahead, pat it into a pan.
Pour the huge amount of filling from the huge bowl into the tippy pie pan on the damp stainless steel counter and hope for the best, cuz the bowl's tipping out of control, and one pie pan is not going to work!!!!
"HELP!"
Here comes mom, but not before a full third of the filling is slopped onto the counter, sink and floor. (probably the walls, too)
I'm messy, the kitchen's messy and the pie is messy.
Mom cooks and serves. I agonize over my lack of discipline.
Oh, well, nothing new. It seemed like a good idea. Next time I'm using canned.
My mom cleans up, I'm too overwhelmed...need a nap.
But later on...MAN, that pie is GOO~OOD!
I bask in culinary contentment.
2 comments:
What a mess...but what a yummy pie
alls well that ends well!
especially when someone else cleans up the mess!
[smile]
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