The Last Supper ... in Aylmer

We feasted tonight. Well, we tried to feast, but if there was something that could go wrong, it did.

I was trying to juggle what was in the fridge with buying what was needed to finish those items off.

There was unrolled and unbaked pie crust, so on one of my walks I picked up some whipping cream and lemon pie filling.  Before leaving the house, I put the ball of pie crust on the counter so that it would be at a temperature when I wanted to work with it.

before whipped cream
flapper pie ... no flaky crust here

“Where did that pie filling go,” I asked when I got home. “Did someone put it back in the fridge?”

Lisa looked horrified and picked up a piece of saran wrap from the kitchen floor.

“Oh, Griffin, did you eat that huge ball of pie dough and some of the saran wrap?” she said, while smelling his breath.
                 
                                    * * * * *

Later, Mary and I picked up some ingredients for flapper pie crust, so that I could use up the ingredients which were now useless without the pie dough.

We had a bowl of egg whites as well in the fridge.  I made bread to use them up.  I slipped the bread into a warm oven, getting it rising faster than usual. 

That is only a good idea, if Mary also knows the bread is in the oven.

Ta dah!

If not, she turns the oven on to get the pork sirloin roasting and a quick heat is applied to the top of a pan full of bread.

I tried to save the uncooked middle, scraping off the top, trying to get at the dough that was beneath, so as not to waste all of that precious flour and water.

When all was said and done, two hours later, the bread fell out of the bread tin when it was finally proofed and cooked , ... leaving the bottom half of the bread glued to the pan.

"Please done't tell your friends at work about this."

Not a good day.  Not a good day.
 
The next morning I went to find even that fragmented loaf, but Mary must have pitched the bread, as I should have done with the 5 egg whites that started the project.

Stop that, Arta!

"I warn you, no more pictures," she said at the end of the day, waving a yogurt tube and a finger at me at the same time.

Yes.  No more pictures. 

I am back in Alberta,  my precious subjects left behind in Aylmer.

Arta