UPDATE (11/12/11): The pie was scrumptious. And I ate every bit of it except one piece that my husband got the other night. No, I’m not a pig, it just sort of worked out that way since he was either at work or home puking his guts out and the last thing he wanted was a piece of pie. I’ll definitely have to make it again. And next time I promise not to eat the whole thing.
So this is probably ridiculous.
Today I was craving a chocolate pie.
Like, super bad.
Like, my pregnant brain will not let me rest until I have a slice of yummy chocolatey goodness. With a flaky crust. And some whipped cream on the side.
So instead of feeding that craving with a thousand other things like I normally do only to break down eventually anyway, I decided it would be in my best interest *wink* to get myself a slice of chocolate pie.
Problem was, I didn’t know where to get one. So I looked in my old school Better Homes and Garden Cookbook (not the new version. The new version isn’t as good as the old version. It uses too many prepared foods and not enough actual from scratch stuff. It didn’t even have a decent pie crust or the pie I was looking for in it.) So after looking at both cookbooks, I found a recipe for a chocolate pie and low and behold, I had all the ingredients just sitting on my shelf screaming at me: USE ME! USE ME!! You know, like the toys from Toy Story.
I. Could. NOT. Let. Them. Down.
So tonight, after I put my little whiny angel *cough-cough* to bed, I proceded to lay out my ingredients, read the directions about 34 times, and prepare to make my pie. See…
I snapped this picture using my husband’s new iPod touch that he got as a birthday gift. Not bad, huh? The sugar and corn starch were over on the stove and I almost burned it thanks to this picture. But I didn’t. And the pie was saved. *Whew!*
So after mixing all the ingredients and a tiring session of stirring, stirring, and more stirring, the pie went into the oven.
And mama was happy.
There it is cooling on the wire rack. Just waiting to be eaten. But it has to cool first. Then be chilled for a few hours. Which kinda makes me sad.
But I will get my pie tomorrow. And I’m okay with that. *I think.*
Incidentally, I did something similar when I was pregnant with Eli. At one point near the end of my pregnancy, I was craving those yummy meringue cookies. Again, I couldn’t find any at the store, so after an exhaustive search of the internet (ahem, not really) for a recipe that I liked (er, didn’t take 12 hours), along with a good how-to on making perfect meringue, I pulled out my Cuisinart Stand Mixer (that I LOVE by the way. I got it for some crazy discount of like 60% off when Linens N Things went out of business a few years ago. Yay me!), separated some eggs, added sugar and cream of tartar and whipped me up a batch of cookies. Again, I had to wait. The directions were like, bake these morsels of sweet goodness, then leave them in the oven for 8 hours without opening the door. Which was torture.
I ended up finally getting into them about 9 p.m. (only a couple hours shy of the time limit) and I ate, and ate, and ate until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Then Eli kicked, and kicked, and kicked from that sugar high.
All. Night. Long.
That was rough. I learned my lesson though. I’m not doing that tonight. I would like to get some sleep.
So, I’ll wait for my pie. Hopefully it will be as good as I imagine.