Today I made some pies. Cherry pie (gotta love that bumper crop). Blueberry apple pecan pie. Two pie. Plural pie. Pies. Today I made a couple of pies.
Crust. Crust is an issue when it comes to pies. Anyone can make a pie, despite the rumors that it’s difficult. Making a good dough, however, is a whole other story.
First I went for the cherry pie. I used this recipe. And this recipe. Did I ever tell you how badly I baked? Everything I learned about baking I learned from my mother. Who never baked. Capiche? Every once in a while I find a recipe that works and I hang onto it. This recipe worked for my friends. Two of them. Plural friend. A couple of friends. But did it work for me?
Of course not.
And the answer, without a doubt, is because all math teachers are perverts. Or at least the male ones who taught in my hometown when I was growing up. Mr. Worles…plenty of issues, I’m sure some of them had to be sexual. Mr. D’gatano…obsessed with apples and oranges. The man could not get enough apples and oranges. He had no preference. Oh, loved all the fruit. According to him, you just couldn’t compare apples and oranges. Both were to be savored for on their own merits. And then there was Mr. Beam, who was a science teacher and not a math teacher but math is very important for science. Total perv.
But the worst of them all, according to me, was the guy I had for 9th grade geometry. What the hell was his name? He was obsessed with calling students to the board to “work out” proofs. Uh-huh. I think the problems he was working out were his own. Did he call me to the board? Did he? Did he?! A few times, and a few times only. I wasn’t much to look at in my size XL t-shirt and 36 inch jeans (despite weighing 105 lbs), so I didn’t get much board time.
And I failed geometry. Boy was my mom pissed. I had to go to summer school. For geometry. In the summer. And you know what? I passed summer school without learning squat about geometry. But my teacher was a woman. Case closed.
Sure, some may say that in order to pass geometry one should memorize all the…you know…stuff you were required to memorize as well as know when to apply it to solve some totally irrelevant to your life geometry problem. Whatever. But let me tell you, there was a girl in my class (let’s just call her Jen with a Polish last name that starts with ‘K’) who also did poorly at geometry yet passed at the end of the year. And let’s just say, that girl was stacked.
You see, I don’t think much about geometry these days. But this day I did. Geometry is very important to pie presentation. Symmetry. Symmetry! That’s a geometry term and also a point of reference for locating beauty in the world of pies.
I had a really tough time rolling out my crust. I broke all the rules. In geometry there are rules. Rules! And I don’t think you can break them. That is, of course, unless you are stacked. And after nursing two kids, I am even less stacked than I was in 9th grade, if you can imagine that. Wait. Don’t imagine that. My husband wouldn’t like that.
So back to the crust. While rolling them out and then assembling them I had to relive the failure of the end of 9th grade when I received that ‘F’ on my report card. ‘F.” There was a lot of ‘F’ that night when I had to tell my parents. ‘F.’
And although my pies deserve at least an ‘F’ for effort, I am not afraid to show them to my husband tonite when he comes home from work to a dinner of french fries and salad and pies. I mean, what does he care about symmetry? He won’t care if the pie is cut from point A to point B to point C in perfectly straight line segments! Heck, he probably would want me to cut him a bisecting line and just serve him half a pie on a plate. And I know he wouldn’t even care about the diameter of the plate. My husband is the kind of man who doesn’t mind a little pie falling on the table.
No. Because he is not some pervy math teacher who makes young girls stand in the front of the room at the chalkboard doing two column proofs. He’s not! My husband is a nurse! He’s sees people naked all the time. Constantly. That’s his job.
And my job is staying home and making pie. And I’m not even good at it. Did I mention that the edges are a bit burnt looking? Well, I’m mentioning it now. Now! Sometimes the convection oven is a liability. I could have baked them without all that hot air blowing around them but no. No I didn’t. But don’t get me started on my home ec. teacher. What was her name?