"You are the apple of my eye"*

While perusing Lisa Yee's blog, I came across her post about spilling rice pudding all over the streets of NYC. Alas, this made me think of the time my mom and I were making apple pies. Now, I play soccer and consider myself a pretty coordinated person, but when it comes to cooking and holding breakable things, I am a bit of a klutz. My mom once had me carry a giant glass bowl filled with salad to a party. It never made it there. I dropped the bowl and spilled the salad all over the road while I was trying to close the car door. Another time I mixed (not with the electric mixer, mind you...I was mixing with just a wooden spoon) a ceramic bowl full of cookie dough right off the table.

These little incidents were nothing compared to the apple-pie debacle. So my mom and I had peeled, sliced, seasoned, and placed the apples in the crusts. I believe she was making one pie and I was making two. I also believe some of the apples were ones that I had picked with my own two hands (apple-picking is a great New England activity for the fall). The pies were baked, and all I had to do was take them out of the oven and let them cool. Then I would be able to eat my awesome delicious homemade apple pies. Easier said than done.

Because we were making three pies, there wasn't enough glass pie pans for them all, so one of my pies had to go in a tin pan. So I've got the big awkward pot holders in my hands, I reach into the oven, and I pull out the pie in the tin pan. I have to walk maybe four steps to the kitchen table to place the pie on the cooling rack. Well, somewhere during that four steps the pie pan decided to fold in on itself, slip through my hands, and fall on the ground. Now this sucks, but a squished apple pie still might be edible (and really yummy!). Only the pie pan somehow flipped upside down and deposited my apple pie on the floor.

I pretty much lost it. A hot mess of apple mush on the kitchen floor is not exactly edible (though still potentially yummy...but possibly with some kitchen-floor extras in it). I growled in frustration and stomped into the living room. I know I'm a klutz when it comes to breakables, so I was being really careful with the pies. How was I supposed to anticipate that the pie pan was going to fail me? It wasn't just that I wasn't going to be able to eat the pie, either. I had spent all that time and energy on these stupid apples; my hand were still aching from all the slicing and peeling, and it was all a waste. The pie was a mess on the floor and not a delicious treat in my belly.

Thankfully, my mom cleaned up the mess, so I didn't have to deal with the pie any longer (thanks, Mom!). I ranted for a little while about calling up the tin pan company and complaining about their faulty products, but of course I never actually did that. This taught me the important lesson of never using cheap, crappy tin pans for something as important as homemade apple pie. Luckily, this year's apple pies have all ended up where they were supposed to (i.e. in someone's belly). Although, I may never get over losing that one pie!

*Stevie Wonder