I have a complicated relationship with fruity desserts. I love the idea of them (like, what’s classier than a pear tart?), but if I’m being honest with myself I’d usually rather just have a brownie. Or a chocolate chip cookie. Or a cupcake. Basically something with chocolate, let’s just cut to the chase.
Same thing goes for pie. I’m just not the biggest fan. I look forward to pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving, and then I don’t crave it for another 364 days. Granted, I will make exceptions for a french silk pie or one of those ice-cream or cream-cheese-and-peanut-butter things in an oreo crust, just masquerading as legitimate pie, but if we’re talking apple or cherry I’m usually just “meh.”
I don’t know if I’m cursed, or what, but this past week has just been a flop as far as cooking is concerned. Things got off on the wrong foot when the massaman curry paste I ordered from Amazon failed to show up (it eventually did, like four days late, with a crack in the bottom of the jar. Thanks a lot Prime!) and I had to scramble to figure out a meal to replace that one I had planned. Then I tried a new copycat recipe for Cafe Rio pork that just ended up tasting like enchilada sauce with a bunch of brown sugar mixed into it.
I made cinnamon rolls on Saturday but didn’t realize that the ones in the middle were totally under-cooked until AFTER I frosted them and they couldn’t be popped back into the oven. Rookie mistake! I know these are major first-world problems, but I’m a girl who lives for food! Nothing is more disappointing than wasting time and ingredients on a recipe that doesn’t turn out.