A Lenten Promise

So it's been almost two weeks since my last post, but I've only made one pie... I still have a few days in this week to get one done (don't worry, I haven't missed a week yet).  So for the first time in awhile, you'll get a relatively short post.  Yay?  I don't know if that's a good or bad thing.

Anyway, while I've been really good about baking a pie every week, I haven't been as good about updating this here blog.  Part of the reason for that is my laziness, part is that I don't feel like people are really reading it, and part is that I get busy and then negligent. 

Well, I was talking to my dad the other day and he asked about the blog and why I've been so bad about keeping it up-to-date.  I mentioned the above reasons, expecting that to be enough of an excuse... of course, it wasn't.  My dad reminded me that writing for other people wasn't the reason I started this blog in the first place -- I decided to keep track of my pie-venture for myself.  The Year of Pie was created because I wanted to write.  Without school papers pushing me, I have nothing to motivate me to practice writing -- something I really, really, really love to do.  This blog was supposed to take the place of my professors' deadlines and be a means for me to write, and write well, since people were going to read it. 

I was supposed to use this blog to record the stories, the frustrations, the excitement, and all of the little moments that are part of this grand project, so that I would have something to reflect upon when it's all over.  Each recipe has a story and the baking of each pie has a story, and by not updating my blog, I'm neglecting to remember them.

So more than letting you down, I've let myself down.  This project isn't everything it was meant to be.  Baking pies can be difficult work, but spending a few hours once a week throwing something in the oven isn't making me a better person.  It's not really helping me to improve upon myself and discover new things.  Sure, I'm learning proper ways to make a meringue and how to sculpt the perfect crust, but that's not really changing me for the better.

Besides, as my dad also pointed out, I complain that people don't read, but they aren't reading because I'm not giving them a reason to.  By going a month between updates, people are going to stop checking back to see if there's anything new.  

Yes, I'm aware that whole above section was somewhat angsty and possibly an over-share, but I'm trying to put some real heart into this blog, and I want to share this weird journey with you... so deal with it :)

So, on this Ash Wednesday evening, the start of Lent, I've decided (along with giving up french fries and credit cards) to make sure I update my blog each and every week.  I've set an alarm on my calendar and everything.  I'm declaring that my promise, here and now.  Cross my heart.

For those who do still read this, onto the PIE!!!

Last week's pie was Snickers Ice Cream Pie.  I snagged this recipe from my sister, Sarah, although I made a few variations on it for my liking.

First of all, a brief update as part of the pie story.  So last Thursday evening, I had a minor headache and a teensy-bit of a sore throat.  I went to bed not thinking much of it (and not taking anything for it... I really hate taking medication, even if it's just aspirin), and woke up the next morning feeling achy.  Nothing over-the-top, but just enough to contemplate calling in sick. 

I got ready for work, with this achy feeling coming and going in waves, and headed off, as I had a presentation to give that morning.  I gave my boss a heads up before the presentation that I wasn't feeling so hot, and I headed back out the door.  I gave the presentation, which went well, and then went back to the office.  It wasn't a far walk, but I was incredibly winded by the time I got back.  Bad sign.

I walked in the door and almost immediately I was told to go home... apparently I wasn't looking so great.  Actually, I found out later that I was pretty pale... another bad sign.  So I took my first sick day and went back to bed, still feeling only minorly ill (I felt that taking the day off was more preventative than anything).  I rested up for the day and by that night, it had gotten much worse.

As you should be aware, unless you're living under a box, and even then you should be aware, The Olympics started on Friday!!!!!!  I'm a die-hard Olympics fan... I can't think or talk of anything but the antics of Apolo Ohno, Shaun White, and any other Olympian that graces NBC from 7:00 onward.  It gets a little ridiculous... I usually even go through a post-Olympics bout of depression afterwards.  Nothing serious, mind you, but it's the same gloomy feeling anyone gets after saying goodbye to something they won't see for a long, long time.

Anyway, so I geared up to watch the Opening Ceremonies, and got as excited as I could whilst feeling like I could be sick at any moment.  I was achy all over, it hurt to swallow, my head was pounding, and about every 20 minutes I experienced waves of nausea.  No bueno.

Well, I'm a dork (as many of you know), and I tend to clap when I get excited.  The Olympics are therefore cause for me to clap... A LOT.  And every time I clapped during the Ceremonies, my hands would tense up in extreme pain.  That's how achy my joints were.  Ugh.

So Saturday rolled around and while I was still pretty sickly, I needed to make a pie, so I picked one of the easiest ones I had... this Snickers Ice Cream Pie.  I justify the simplicity of it by the above 6 paragraphs.  I was sick, I was crabby, and I wasn't in the mood for elaborate baking.

The recipe called for an Oreo crust, and Walmart was out of those, so I purchased a graham cracker one.  Yes, I did.  Woe-is-me, remember?  I then made up for the lack of chocolate in the crust by squirting chocolate and caramel sauce into the bottom before adding a mixture of chocolate and vanilla ice cream and chopped up snickers.  The whole goopy mess was thrown back in the freezer to solidify.

It was the perfect pie for the state I was in.  Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed it... and how could I not?  Some of the greatest ingredients went into that sucker!  I could've gotten more creative, sure, but it was just what the doctor ordered (the doctor being me in this case, since I don't go to doctors for the flu).  Yu-um!

Okay, this entry isn't going to be as short as I promised... I have a few more stories to share.

So I was pretty much patched up by Sunday (although now I'm feeling sick again... ack!), and in honor of Paczki Day yesterday (also known as Fat Tuesday), I whipped up a batch of Polish paczkis!  For those who don't know, paczkis are a donut-esque dessert... slightly heavier than the average Krispy Kream, covered in powdered sugar (or glaze), and often filled with jelly.  We make them every year and deliver them to our relatives... it's a tradition I grew up with and really missed in my four years of college.  Ours aren't jelly-filled, though; we add the jelly as we eat them.

Well, I decided, for the first time ever, to make my own paczkis this year!  I called home and my mom read the recipe off of the age-old notecard my dad had it written down on, and then I set to work.  After mixing all of the ingredients listed, I stared down not into a bowl of thick dough, but into a bowl of runny soup.  What went wrong?  My dad didn't write to add flour on the recipe... that's just something he knows to do. 

I had a minor freak-out, as a batch requires almost 8 cups when all is said and done, and I only had 6, but I managed to borrow the rest.  Phew!  After fixing the problem, the soup was transformed into dough!  Hooray!

Jumping to the end, the paczkis weren't as round, fluffy, and delicious as my dad's are... mine were flat, hard, and only good after being microwaved.  The problem?  I realized I didn't let the dough rise enough before rolling it out, and then I rolled it out too thin, so when they were fried, they didn't puff up like they're supposed to.  Urgh.

Still, I can say that I made them!  For the first time!  I made my great-grandma's paczki's!  Hooray!  That's all I need to be a happy girl.

Well, that, and good pancakes... I made the perfect stack last night, for the first time EVER!  They were all round, the same size, and golden brown.  So I stacked them up, put a pat of butter on top, and drizzled syrup over to (of course) snap a picture for proof.  And then I threw the butter out.  Ha.

I'm rather proud of myself, to say the least!

And I'm going to continue to share joyous moments like that as I consistently update my blog from here on out!  Huzzah!!!!

Okay, pictures coming (hopefully) soon.  :)