The Great Cherry Conflagration

There are the moms who sprawl dough fixin’s over their majestically sized marble island counters and create pie art. Then, there are 20-somethings with tiny apartment kitchens who make pie with Pillsbury ready crusts and cherry filling. Guess which stereotype I am?

To me, cooking is one of those rare exceptions where it’s actually not about the journey—only about the results. If circumventing difficult and costly (in terms of a grocery trip) steps can still give me a pie at the end of the day, then I’m going to do it, and Pinterest-ites and baking bloggers be damned. I must say, too, that for a five minute prep time, it truly was delicious. Rolling out crusts from a wax paper bag gives me a rush….. the kind of rush that says, “I will finish this pie before Game of Thrones comes on in thirty minutes.” Surely the crust would have been flakier and richer had I made it from scratch, but I had no intention of dropping $40 on pie ingredients when I had no one to impress but my manfriend–and he’s already my manfriend. The conquest is complete. Why whip out the big guns and make scratch crusts?

This was a double-edged effort. Not only had I never baked cherry pie, but also had I never eaten it. The results of the taste test are in: “It wasn’t awful.” Cherry is by no means a food I enjoy casually. After all, it’s a fruit, and I am not a fruit bat. I’m a marpoo, and so, naturally, eat carbs and seafood.

Now please enjoy while Warrant sings of my success.

About Marpoo

Purveyor of sass and unsubstantiated rhetoric. View all posts by Marpoo

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