I think I’ve made my feelings clear on baking vs. cooking. I love cooking, like a lot. And I’m pretty decent at it. It doesn’t require that you follow directions, and it’s much easier to be creative. Baking, however locks you into a specific formula. It’s science, man, and I was always an English/history girl.
You may remember that pregnancy made my cooking frequency dwindle. Because of the smells. And the effort. Recently though, I excitedly picked up the cooking again, and I dove headfirst. In addition to my cooking I have tried my little heart out to up my baking game. I made brownies and frosting and TRES LECHES CAKE from scratch, y’all.
It was all fun and games until I got too cocky and went for the fried pies.
I made dough. (Successfully!)
I sprinkled flour and rolled out said dough.
It all went downhill from there until the remains of my project ended up here. Where dreams go to die. There are probably a few of my tears in there too.
Is it sad that one of my major concerns here is that I had to throw food away? I mean, look at all of this wasted shortening. Those are the charred remains of pie dough and my dignity floating around in there.
I’m coming for you fried pies. I will conquer you.
Until then, want to come over and I’ll make you a wonderful savory dish?