This may actually turn into ruminations on ABC’s prime time programming last night as that’s what was on in the background (I don’t have cable), but I’ll make a concerted effort to tie it back into baking.
Have I already blogged about displacement? My aunt taught me that when measuring Crisco, you add water to the measuring cup to get a better idea of how much you have left to add. I prefer to use smaller measuring cups and just scoop it out of the tub (I ran out of sticks and FreshDirect only had small tubs…and after three crusts, I’ve pretty much decimated my new small tub). I found the banoffee crust to be a bit too sticky and was a little worried, but I’m more careless when baking after work, so I added a *little* more flour and then made an executive decision that everything was going to be fine (The Secret??).
It was at this point in Dancing with the Stars that they introduced NBA hall of famer Clyde Drexler who is an impressive 6’7″. What they don’t know, however, is my very own father is 6’10” and so 6’7″ does not really astound me. I liked Clyde though – he seems like a really nice guy. For whatever that’s worth.
Other DWTS thoughts?
Heather Mills and her partner first met up in Brighton! If you read my post yesterday, you know how I feel about Brighton! (I also thought it was funny that they referred to Mills as a “charity campaigner” as if “divorcing a Beatle” wasn’t really what made her a “star…”)
At this point I realized I had forgotten to poke holes in the bottom of my crust and tried to do it mid-baking. (Oops.) Holes or no holes, this one still turned out pretty ugly. And part of it crawled down the side during baking…I don’t know why. I think another call to my aunt is in order. (While I was spooning in toffee, the whole crust moved independent of the pan…)
My final DWTS take-away: Billy Ray Cyrus. Guy didn’t do so hot last night. And he may sing about mullets now, but it was obviously his achy-breaky heart that made him famous. That song was on the airwaves when I was in the 7th grade.
And…I was in band in junior high. I played the flute…which sort of reminds me of the time my friend Erin took me to a secret beach in Malibu (where she swore I didn’t have to worry about people seeing me in swimwear) and then a creepy man in what I initially described as “the worst g-string ever” – but then my roommate (from my sophomore year in college who prides herself on being the shallowest person I know) told me was actually a “t-string” – appeared out of nowhere…and Erin and I moved away from him at the secret beach because he was a little too close for comfort and kinda, sorta, you know, naked…and we were just kind of hanging out and doing our thing when we looked at each other and asked, “Do you hear music?” and looked over and saw the creepy guy in the t-string playing a flute. He was standing there on the secret beach in his t-string, playing his flute as if it was the most natural thing in the world…
But, back in junior high, our big band hurrah was a local parade and our big rival was Cook Jr. High. (We were the Spartans of Slater). My band director picked a patriotic tune and had us all hyped up about how talented and professional we were in our white jeans with red stripes up the sides. Cook? Played Achy–Breaky Heart. And guess who won top honors in the parade?? I hated that song for a looong time afterward.
Now though – I admit I’m glad I never had to learn to play a Billy Ray Cyrus song on the flute.