Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad (or Pie-Induced Social Interactions)

Well, summer is officially over here in Idaho.

The cooler weather has set in and the first frost has fallen .

September is beautiful, isn't it?

Just kidding.

Everyone knows we don't get our first real snow storms till October.

But I wasn't teasing about the cooler weather. This is how it really looked outside today. A little grey with some attempts at rain and, of course, the ever-present Idaho wind. But cooler weather meant that I could finally enjoy some of my favorite activities: wearing sweaters, reading books while wrapped up in warm blankets, and baking.I love hard-core cooking, but I don't get to do a lot of baking in the summer because of my lack of air conditioning. My stove may look harmless, but turning it on when it is even mildly warm outside transforms my apartment from this...

...to this. Not fun. And since I do not reside in a nudest complex or belong to a clothing-optional religion, I avoid turning on my oven in the summer at all costs.So I decided to take advantage of the cooler weather today and bake. Since reading about "buttermilk pie" on my sister-in-law's eldest sister's blog http://karlennandben.blogspot.com/ this week, I have been wanting to give it a try. So I found a recipe and whipped up some delicious custard filling.
This is where I have to make a confession.

Don't tell my mom (a.k.a Princess Perfect Pie Crust), but I used a store-bought pie shell. It's not that I can't make pie crust. I can. I make it all the time. But instead of using it as a pie shell, I roll it flat and sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar to bake as pie crust cookies. When I need a pie shell, I worship at the alter of Marie Calendar because...and this is really hard for me to admit...I am pie-shell challenged.

Seriously. If there was a school for pie shells, I would ride the short bus.

If there was a pie shell ISAT, I would score somewhere between "below basic" and "lobotomized".

My pie shells are so ugly, the first time I brought one to a ward Halloween party, the scouts put it in the spook ally because it was the scariest thing in the building.

But since my store-bought shell wouldn't hold all of the butter-milky goodness I was forced to make a small shell to avoid a taste-waste of tragic proportions. Bet'cha can't guess which shell is mine...

Poor little pie crust. Too bad there isn't an "extreme pie shell makeover" show. At very least, this pathetic pastry warrants an appearance on Dr. Phil. Especially after being set so close to one of Marie Calendar's geometrically perfect crusts. Talk about inferiority complexes. This is like me sitting next to Angelina Jolie on a park bench...or it would be if the good looking pie had a bunch of tattoos and had adopted a bunch of foreign tartlets.

But both pies turned out pretty darn good, even without self esteem counseling. (Kar - your post has changed my life. I LOVE this pie. Really. Now if you could just blog some easy to follow instructions on how to get a date, your blog would officially be the best thing that has ever happened to me).

I had some extra ugly pie crust dough left, so I made some cookies. Cookies that I ate while wearing a warm sweater.

Sweaters, check. Baking, check. The final step in my perfect cool-weather day was to curl up on my couch to read my new book (the one my kidlets and I have had a running release-date countdown going for since school started). Then the phone rang. Then there was a knock at my door. Then the phone rang again. Then another knock.

So my book was abandoned as I spent the afternoon with Elizabeth and Adelle and then the evening with my new friend and fellow teacher Jill. Normally I don't have that much social interaction in a day...or in a week....or ever...but since word has gotten out that I have stopped handing out 7th grade spelling tests and red pens to everyone who comes through my door, people assume it is safe to visit me. Of course, some of today's social interactions were the result of word getting out that I was handing out slices of buttermilk pie at the door. That means, if I want to have a shot at getting my book read before a mass of kidlets breaks down my classroom door Monday morning to discuss it, I am either going to have to stay up all night reading or eat the rest of the pie, thereby removing the social interaction catalyst.
Hummm...I really do need my sleep, so I guess the pie will just have to go (So Kar, if your next blog post could be about how to get a date with a boy who doesn't mind going out with an anti-social chick with a butter-milk-pie-inflated-backside, I would really appreciate it).