Oh the pie. What a pie...
I won´t say it was the most revolting thing I´ve ever cooked, because the Purple Rice Incident of 1997 is still fresh in my memory. It comes pretty close, though.
All my fault, too. I was out of ink cartridges and couldn´t be bothered to write down the recipe. But I thought I´d just wing it. It´s only an assembly job of pastry, pastry cream, bananas and cream, what could go wrong?
Ha. Overconfidence is always the beginning. From then on, it was one mistake after the other.
Since I´ve never met a Graham cracker in my life, I decided to make a normal sablé pastry. But I flippantly susbituted a whole egg for the two yolks it called for, with the result that it didn´t roll out so well. Which would have been fine, except that I was trying out a new silicone tart mould. Which is ok, except that I have Oven Issues. Won´t bore you with them, but moulds and pans have to be balanced on some pottery making equipment, or I end up with raw things with scorched undersides.
Silicone being soft, the mold caved in and the pastry inmediately shattered.
Which wouldn´t have mattered, if I hadn´t made the creme patissiere from a Donna Hay recipe.
Now, Donna had never failed me before. I relied on her steadfastly no-nonsense approach for this sort of thing. Donna may not chat, but she delivers, yes? Well, actually, no. Whole milk, free range eggs, the seeds from one Madagascar vanilla bean and some cornstarch, and what do I get? A wobbly brick of yellow stuff that looked and tasted as if it had come out of a post-war ration package.
Which didn´t stop me from trying to make the pie, hope being always the last thing to go.
What a sight. Sometimes I really wish this was a blog with photos. It´d have done your heart good to see the thing. Broken pastry topped with wodges of zinc yellow stuff and wisps of whipped cream trying gamely to cover up the mess, the whole looking for all the world like the insides of an alien´s brain.
It went straight into the bin, but you know what? I don´t care. Marty has his Oscar, and I can still bake a kick-ass brownie, so all was well in the end.