Dimetapp Pie and really good pie

This is what happens when you invite an unknown entity to your Thanksgiving:

He wasn’t all that unknown, he was a friend of my brother, but he likes to play mad scientist in the kitchen, and this pie, which my brother bravely tasted for us, is what he brought.

In order to preserve his anonymity we’ll call him MadMan, or MM for short.

MM made Kool Aid pie. It is like key lime pie without the eggs. It involves Kool Aid and sweetened condensed milk. I feel like perhaps grape was just the wrong flavor for this pie that reeked of white trash, but I suppose I am just an optimist who will live out her days in a trailer.

Except I am planning on my trailer being my Starwagon on the set of my sitcom.

Back to pie. Kool Aid pie was mostly a joke since everyone knew I was making both pumpkin pie and THE Pie.
MM more than redeemed himself from his pie, to the extent that I feel he ought to share his name. He needs to take credit for his cranberry sauces. He made a whiskey-orange infused version and a bacon version. Delectable. I did not taste the bacon one, naturally but i hear it was wicked good. When I get the recipes to both sauces I shall blog them.

Aannnnnnnd, that’s all I have for you this week, folks. I barely have time to write this so why do I even think you have time to read it?

Never mind. Read it anyway. Go back and read all my blog entries. And pretty please comment! I talk back.

Ok, I gotta go learn lines. Audition lines and a script for a shoot I’m doing this weekend. Yeaaaaaa, December acting work.

Cheers, y’all!

Busy one: second annual pumpkin week in spring day one

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What to do with the remains of a can of pumpkin when one has much work to be done?

What to do when one is plagued with the harrowing duties we actors face, like looking at hundreds of pictures of our faces trying to find which headshot our new manager wants.
Tis harrowing, I say.
Devastating, depending on whether you agree with the manager on what pic to use.

Which we did:

He wanted one in which I look as pale as I actually am. I think perhaps I’ve been missing out on albino roles.

Friggin’ A. I’ve put on weight since the new year and still my arms are scrawny. I’m going to have to get over that. I could gain twenty pounds and my arms would probably maintain their twig status.

Today’s cooking was done while I labored to narrow down hundreds of shots to about five for the manager to choose between.
I dealt with the sensory assault of hundreds images of my blinding whiteness by assembling the most rapid thing I could to devour whilst working.

I decided to egg it.
Egg it. Everything can be worked into eggs.
Passion,
Ardor,
Love for les’ouefs.
Take a couple tablespoons of pumpkin and beat into an egg with some sage and thyme.
It is like Thanksgiving for breakfast.
Maybe I should start eating Thanksgiving everyday. That would be good.

Piedenfroid

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. And it’s tomorrow! I will be hosting a whopping 9 people. I’ve never hosted before. Yikes!
I do promise a vegetarian T-day recap, but in the meantime, if you are reading this you either have your menu in check, or are digesting a tasty meal. What I am getting to is, who really has time for ANOTHER Thanksgiving recipe? So thank you to Eleanor for suggesting that I feed not your bellies, but your brains.
This week I give you a word. You can use it to spice up your holiday table talk if you are dining with foody wordy nerds like me.
The English language lacks enough words to cover emotions felt in specific instances. We have no equivalent to “schadenfreude”, used to describe delight felt in another’s misfortune. Well, I have taken it upon myself to create a word to descibe a common and unfortunate feeling-one I hope does not describe your Thanksgiving experience. Allow me to introduce you to this soon-to-be linguistic sensation:
PIEDENFROID
You know how sometimes a dessert looks amazing, sounds amazing, perhaps even smells good, and totally tastes lame? Not bad, just…lackluster? So you eat it, but it is not special. You feel tricked, and are filled with remorse, disillusion, dispair, perhaps even denial as you make excuses for the failed dessert(well, the whipped cream seemed real, at least!). You regret that dessert. You are left saddened and still wanting, yet you’ve filled your belly with this useless dessert.
This is piedenfroid. It has it’s word origings in “pie”, the dessert most easily guilty of piedenfroid. So easy for a pie to fail if not in a tasteless cardboard crust, then in a overly dried or too gooey filling.
This word also denotes just a tinge of anger, both at yourself and at the dessert, and the dessert’s source(hopefully not yourself-then you’ve wasted time cooking and ingredients). It does not, however, denote rage. The dessert has to be truly awful for rage. I am working on the word for that.
May your Thanksgiving be plentiful and piedenfroid-free.

Last year’s pie

I did not get a picture if this year’s pie, but since I always make the same thing I decided last year’s pie would be equally informative. My traditional Thanksgiving pie is an apple-cranberry-struesel pie. The main difference this year is I used a bit less sugar in the filling because there is so much sweeteners in the streusel. So this year was a bit different than last, but it looked like this: