I have just burnt my morning oatmeal and by burnt I mean brown pan-crusted, back breaking to clean, char. It only occurred to me that something might be remiss when my stomach rumbled and I started to think, “Why am I hungry? Didn’t I already eat breakfast?” Doh! I’m so smart I even surprise myself some times. At least if I can’t get the burn smell outta my house, I got to draw that disgruntled face above!
The Cherry on Top
As well as I can whip up the something mouthwatering, I have my moments of utter mentalness in the kitchen. Cherry pie is kinda my kryptonite. When Jon and I first moved into our house, I decided – great idea! – that I was going to fix his favorite cherry pie to celebrate our new, little nest. So I painstakingly pitted the cherries, dressed them in a lattice of crimped dough and slid the pie pan into the oven . . . without a tray underneath. Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle. You can guess what happened next.
I think I enjoyed that pie almost as much as I enjoyed cleaning the thick, cherry goo encrusted on the bottom of the stove. Okay, full disclosure: Jon cleaned it; I watched. He does have stronger arms than me though. And men who clean are just downright sexy!
Salt Cherry Pie
Flash forward a couple of years. I’m all excited over this recipe for sour cherry pie – a way to mix up the old recipe I’ve since mastered – and impress Jon with my baking skills extraordinaire. I should know by now that this cherry experimentation means trouble, right? Ha!
I felt like Betty Crocker . . . for a while. It was a perfect pie: the crust a golden buttery brown, the cherries fresh and sweet. Except, of course, they weren’t. I’ll concede that I might’ve grabbed the wrong sugar. Maybe. I still maintain it was the inherent sourness in the cherries, but either way, I can’t make a cherry pie today without Jon making a crack about it. And life’s all the sweeter for it.
Oh, and by the way, that new fruit tree in the backyard. It’s a cherry.