The Pie Project

When I am not making any pie. I did make some delicious cherry cornmeal scones, but I can't write about that, it's treason. So maybe I'll just write about my life and try to figure out a clever pie-related lens through which to view it. If you can't tell from that last sentence, I'm pretty immersed in academia. Scrolling around online reading interviews with writers about who can tell whose stories, about "post-gay fiction," about identity politics. Love this stuff. Makes me feel like there's so much more to learn. I'm also writing comments on my fiction students' exercises (oh, man...) and working on a review about a Salvadorean novel for the VQR Young Reviewer's Contest. Is any of this about baking yet? Don't worry. I'm getting there. It's been a big week, with turning in the first draft of my novel, and the reading I got to do at a lovely wonderful hipster/dive bar . I was nervous no one in the buzzed crowd would pay attentio

Cat Cora makes pie dough from scratch! I knew she would. (Click on link for video). She's perfect in so many ways. For instance, she's gay. And she's a famous chef. And she's out, and a mom, and gorgeous. What more can I say?

We survived the hurricane! Trees are down, power is mostly out, there is a huge line for gas and available groceries - but who are we kidding? Most of Houston is lucky. It's the coast I'm feeling really sorry for. When the national news says "disaster, supplies are running low," they really mean, people are mad because their steaks are going bad in the freezer and it's hard to get coffee or cable. It's uncomfortable, but we have roofs. M. and I actually have power, by some miracle - so I could even make a pie, if I wanted, which I don't, because despite everything I just said, there's something about a hurricane that sobers you up. Well, not literally sober - everyone is passing the time drinking warm beer. Yesterday after a long drive we found an open convenience store and bought wine for cash in the pitch dark. So, yeah. Life could be worse. Pix to come!

Hurricane Ike isn't looking good. As of this morning parts of Harris (i.e. Houston's) county are under mandatory evacuation, and we look set for a pretty bad hit. Morgan, the kitties, and I will hunker down with her parents in their sturdier townhouse. Three nervous cats, two nervous dogs, and us...and maybe no power for days. But who knows. The storm could shift. Nobody quite knows what to expect. The good news? I don't have to teach the writing workshop on Saturday morning, I'm guessing. The bad news? I have to turn the ENTIRE draft of my novel into my master's workshop next week, and I may not have the ability to plug in my laptop after Friday night. I should be more worried about windows breaking, probably, but hey. It's the perfectionist in me. I'll print the whole draft today and at least then I can work by hand and flashlight. Needless to say, I'm not firing up the oven. I thought I'd post photos of the wildest of pies, though, to match the w

Your daily dose of potassium is hiding underneath here... I hate to say it, but there's not one. A pie diet, I mean. I guess I could stop baking them altogether, but really, writers are not rational thinkers like that. My id loves pie. I will keep making it. I've got to have motivation other than my tastebuds, though. So this banana cream pie was an exercise in restraint: I baked, whipped, layered, and sent it out the door intact. It was hard! I kept thinking, I should taste it for scientific purposes. I've never made a banana cream before. Etcetera. But in the end, I didn't touch it. I survived. I did get compliments from the eaters, who said it was like "the most delicious banana pudding you ever ate," plus a graham cracker crust. The custard bit was hardest; I might not have cooked it long enough. It never quite gelled, despite hours of refrigeration. Still, what's not to love about homemade vanilla pudding and ripe, sweet bananas? Comfort food, for sur

Morgan's birthday was in July, so this post is late. But given our mutually hectic weeks, I thought I'd bring back the happy memory. She requested apple pie, nothing more, nothing less, for her midsummer b-day, and I promptly bought a dozen Granny Smiths even though I associate apple with colder months. Turns out apple pie is comfortingly delicious any time of year. This is a fairly standard recipe except for the crumble top experiment, which involved oats, brown sugar, butter, spices, and flour, much like a fruit crisp topping. It turned out pretty well, but I still prefer the flaky crust to the crunchy. We stuck whimsical little candles in it, sang, wished, sliced, and ate with friends. It'd be nice to do the same today, rather than rush around tense from the moment the second alarm goes off at 6:45. No, it's not that bad; it's just this morning our horrible bitch of a landlady left a nasty note r.e. our forgetting to pay rent. Now, we have never forgotten before.