Chitlins, let me tell you a story. It goes like this: When I was younger my uncle got remarried, and I wasn’t totally stoked on the idea. I don’t know why, there was no reason to be upset about it. I just decided I was going to hold a grudge, because I was a snotty teenager.
I begrudgingly met his new wife at some family function and of course she’s as sweet as pie. Then she whips out two beautiful pies. A chocolate mousse and a lemon meringue. I overheard through other people talking that she actually made from scratch these two pies that were picture perfect. I was skeptical.
Not too shabby, except for that one damn crack. -__-
Thursday night, two weeks ago, was truly a comedy of errors. Except I didn’t see the comedy in the whole thing. I have never stepped so gingerly around a kitchen in my entire life, not that I can recall anyway. I had finally set aside time to make that pumpkin pie I was promising The BF all week and I figured I’d also make a quick batch of something else sweet while I waited for the pie dough to chill.
I got home and scrolled through my bookmarks, but didn’t find anything that interested me so I decided to load up Pinterest to find one of the 200+ sweets recipes I had pinned. Except the internets wouldn’t load. So I troubleshot for a bit and finally got it working, picked out a simple chocolate chip cookie recipe and marched off to the grocery store; when it promptly started pouring, and I forgot my umbrella. No bigs, I waited out the flash storm and made it home not much later and only a bit soggy.