Every since this--->
week has been filled with sleepless nights comprised of endless
searches of all things PIE. I looked around cooking blogs, perused
punchfork until dawn, fast forwarded through hundreds of episodes of The
Cooking Channel's programs. I finally settled on a peach blackberry
thing. I spent the better part of the day with Shelly getting hay in
whole ride into town, she's promising me a stop at the grocery so I
could pick up a few things. Instead the closest I got to a store with
food for purchase was Burger King. After Burger King, she headed
straight to Colon Orchards and loaded up hay. She ended up with a few
more big bales than she had originally planned.
this was Tom Truck's first haul since his upgrade (recall the blog
about our trip to Denver to offload the sheep) Shelly decided that we'd
better make haste and head up the hill. For a split second I thought
I'd slip a few apples into my bag when I was letting Izzy out to use the
little girl's room. The apples didn't look ready and I left my bag at
home and I really don't need any negative Karma. So I loaded my dog and
my bad attitude and away we went.
Upon our arrival
home, Shelly started whining about lunch. I'm convinced it's a
conditioned response with her. We make the turn into the driveway and
she starts salivating like Pavlov's dog. Izzy and I walked to the house
from the barn. I'm supposed to be thinking about lunch but instead,
I'm trying to remember what I have in the pantry so I can make a pie.
Izzy steps on me several times, as she's bounding from gopher hole to
prairie dog hole. I decide on steak, rice and broccoli for a
lunch/dinner meal. Things are going along swimmingly. I get the food
made and even manage to start some laundry. As I finish grilling the
steak and let Shelly know that she can some feed her face, I hear the
buzzer on the dryer. I set my steak on a plate to let it rest and head
downstairs to fold the clothes. I head back up the stairs when I'm
done, thinking to myself, "Since I've made a large meal for lunch, I can
skip making dinner and instead make a PIE."
I top the stairs I see my lurch of a dog, standing in the kitchen
licking her lips. I think nothing of it until I see the plate. There
is no steak to be found. The plate hasn't moved. I know that Izzy has
sucked it down. Taco Dog and Virus Dog have not moved from their usual
positions. Not only did she inhale my entire hunk of meat but she
didn't even share with her siblings.
was so frustrated that I gave Izzy the stink eye. I had lost my
appetite. I decided that a little alone time would probably be a good
idea. I headed down to the cow pasture to check on Jenny Cow. Jenny
Cow is expected to deliver her first calf in late July. She's already
showing signs of the coming baby with a filling udder and cocked tail. I
brought her up to the milking barn to get some extra cookies and a good
brushing. Jenny and I chatted about her upcoming due date and all the
glorious milk she was going to give us.
After our time
together I headed home and started baking. I made a batch of
shortbread cookies, let them cool and then smashed them for a crust.
Then I smooshed about 7.2 recipes together in my head and filled the
crust with apples and some other yummy stuff. I pull the pie from the
oven and set it in the microwave to cool. I start making a caramel
whipped cream. As the cream is getting fluffy in the stand mixer,
Shelly asks me if the pie will be ready before we go to bed. I decide
to place the pie in the fridge to cool it quickly. As I'm moving a jar
of pickles to the side the unthinkable happens. I drop the pie!
it was cool enough as Izzy managed to slurp up several mouthfuls before
she realized that I was unhappy about the situation. I scooped the
remaining pie into the pig bucket and sulked away to their pen. I came
back to the house and realized that I had forgotten about the cream
being whipped in the stand mixer. I now have caramel butter.
telling you that pie was the best pie I have ever made. I have no idea
what I put in it, what temperature I baked it at, or for how long. It
is forever lost because someone put the pickles in the wrong place in