You're probably wondering where 'worst pie' came from. Last summer my brain finally started working well enough for me to start baking again. I used to be a really good baker, from the time I was a very small child, so when I lost this skill, I was quite bereft. When it came back, I wanted to share my joy. So I started baking pies again. And I make very good pies. They don't always look like prize winning pies, but they usually taste like they could be (and yes, I'm bragging a bit here). My discovery this summer was rhubarb meringue pie, and I wound up fiddling with a number of recipes, combining and trying and adjusting until I was satisfied. The results were spectacular, a pie that is simply... amazing. However, one of the mid-point tries was dubbed 'worst pie', and nearly thrown out uneaten.
The funny thing about this worst pie was that there was nothing really wrong with it to anyone other than me. I wound up sending it home with Sebastian, who claimed it to be one of the best pies he'd ever eaten, which is where the whole 'worst pie' moniker came from. I was bemoaning the horror of my pie, the crust that wouldn't come out cleanly, the meringue that had sweated, the imperfectness of the custard, in general, that it was the worst pie that I'd ever made, and that it was inedible and I was ashamed to be serving it. I don't remember his exact response anymore, but whatever it was, it was something to imply that if this was worst pie, then that was what he was going to aspire to in every day life. It's become a bit of a running joke now, that whenever we do something that really impresses someone else but we think is half-assed or not our best work, it's worst pie. Because really, it's not.
Sweet dreams all... I'm hoping to be back in the land of the writing.
