That said, my favorite use for Pinterest, by far, is as a recipe keeper. I pin recipes I want to make, use that recipe straight from my Pinterest iPhone app as a shopping list at the store, then follow the recipe straight from the Pinterest app on an iPad in the kitchen. I knew the day would come that I would screw up a recipe so badly that it would end up yet another hackneyed "Pinterest Fail" that litters the gutters of the Internet. That day has come for me. It scoffs at my pretentious Pinterings.
About a week ago, I decided to make some adorable s'mores mini pies for my inlaws at my husband's cousin's house. These are the pies in question: S'mores Mini Pies
Ok, I know what you're thinking because mom already told me: Why not make them before hand and bring them over? Well no MOM, they need to be served warm, they are S'mores after all. Plus with ingredients like pudding and marshmallow fluff, how could this go wrong? I've made more complicated recipes than this. What kind of amateur do you think I am?
This recipe is going flip off my spoon, onto these premade graham cracker crusts, and into my inlaw's hearts. I will be a hero and they will tell stories of how good my pudding pies were around the Thanksgiving table for years to come. Greg's Grandmother will weep at the beauty of my baking prowess. Everyone will beg for me to make them, and I will, graciously. When I die, they will place a bronzed mini S'more pie on my grave, and my children's children will sprinkle fresh marshmallows there each year in memory.
With my trusty Greg helper by my side, I tackle the box of Jello pudding. What I failed to understand in my years of instant pudding making is that you have to add the powder before you heat the milk up if it's regular, non-instant pudding. My pudding arrogance was amplified by 2 glasses of wine bravado, so I did not read the instructions completely. When I added the pudding powder to the boiled milk it pudding-curdled and there was gross pudding skin all over the pot. Greg graciously offered to get me another box at the store.
With a fresh box, I mastered the delicate art of making non-instant pudding. I ladled the gloop into the pie crusts, added the marshmallows, and carefully arranged the mini chocolate chips on top. It was Pinterperfect. I set the oven to broil, which is 500 degrees. Anyone who has used a broiler can see where this is going.
It's ironic because I set Greg in front of the oven and said "One of us has to watch this at all times." I decided it was appropriate to make good use of my time by pouring out the rest of the pudding in a tupperware. I asked Greg to put the ladle in the sink, where he proceeded to wash it like the good helper he is. I didn't realize he was washing it, and he thought I was watching the oven (probably). I glanced up just in time to see the tops of the marshmallows were a nice golden brown. Oh they're doneaaaaghhahdammit THEY ARE ON FIRE. Then the entire oven was enveloped in hellish hell-flames. I frantically pushed buttons on the unfamiliar oven as the kitchen filled with smoke, setting the fire alarm off.
We ended up eating the pies anyway, sans charcoal marshmallow top. They were hideous, but everyone at least pretended they were good. Okay, fine, I'm a huge drama queen. They were fine, but I was super embarrassed about blowing up my husband's cousin's oven. Sorry Sev and Sarah. I promise not to try burn your house down ever again.
In conclusion, If you want to impress your inlaws, I highly recommend this recipe. If they have a good sense of humor (like mine do) it will be hilarious story to tell at family gatherings, plus it will lower their expectations for anything you make in the future. I now know that anything I make for them in the future will be straight up gourmet.
No comments
Post a Comment