On Imperfection.

I had noble intentions for my pie-making endeavors this year. I’d make the dough ahead of time, bake the night before, transport my perfect pastries in newly purchased bamboo steamers, and arrive, pulled together and on time—for once—for turkey dinner. Of course, in reality, I did none of these things.


I did wake up at 5:30 this morning, make the dough (poorly), put the pie in the oven only to realize, ten minutes later, that I’d forgotten to add lemon juice to the filling, and put the still-hot pie in a too-flimsy bag to transport it to Penn Station.


The pie predicament: It links our two kitchens this year. Jill baked hers without a pan. I folded mine in half. This Thanksgiving, I’m trying to remind myself that it’s not just the outside that counts. Here’s hoping that all flawed exteriors cover excellent, delicious, and amazing interiors. And if those aren’t any good either, there’s always the wine.

Tagged , ,

2 thoughts on “On Imperfection.

  1. marsha says:

    it looked beautiful and tasted delicious!

Don't be shy. Write something here.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: