I have never been a big fan of baking. My family does not have a sweet tooth (except for my husband and he agrees that extra calories are not necessary), so I have never felt a need to perfect my baking skills, except for those occasions when I am asked to supply items for a local fundraiser.
Those are always trying times because as anyone knows when presentable baking is needed, a flop is inevitable. I was particularly prone to baking failures since I like to “wing it” when I cook and I always seem to be in a hurry. Baking requires precise measurements and a fair dose of patience, so I am at a disadvantage before I even begin.
But it was one particular occasion that almost drove me over the edge. As fate would have it, every club and organization that I belonged to in town decided to have a bake table at our annual Kinette flea market. That meant preparing three to five items per club and five different groups had asked. (You do the math – that’s a whack of baking!) As an involved member I was bound and determined to fulfill my obligations, since my attempts to just give cash had been met with blank stares. That, and the fact that most of the other women not only baked, but made items that looked like they belonged in a photo shoot for a magazine made me feel that I had to measure up.
So after school on a Friday, the baking frenzy began and everyone knew to stay out of my way. By late Friday evening I was quite pleased with myself as I surveyed two perfect chiffon cakes, several packages of cookies and a batch of muffins which sat on the counter.
But my pride and joy were my pies. Pies are always a big seller and for some strange reason I liked to make pies and had become fairly proficient at it. (Okay, I love to eat pie so maybe it’s not that strange.) Three lovely-looking apple pies were ready to go and a lemon pie sat cooling on the island which is located right across from my oven. (The relevance of this fact shall become apparent shortly.)
Two more lemon pies were in the oven where the mile-high meringue was turning a toasty brown on the tips. It was time to remove them from the oven as meringue can quickly burn. I had prepared the pies in foil pie plates so to make it easier to handle them, I had placed them to bake on a large cookie sheet. As I pulled the sheet out of the oven and turned to the island, perhaps a little too quickly (remember my impatience plus by this time I was dead tired), the pies slid to the edge of the sheet, caught the lip and before I could say, “Give me a break!” They tipped over the side.
If that wasn’t bad enough, they both landed on top of the pie that was cooling. Sometimes even pie isn’t easy!
