(I really do have a sign in my kitchen and a magnet as well that states: There is a kitchen because it came with the house.)
A Dollar’s Worth
By Alisa Dollar
If a can of cherries states “pit” does that mean pits have been removed?
I have a problem decoding can-speak.
In high school I took home economics. I took it because I had to. I took it because every female in my family could and still can cook. I took it because I thought it would be fun to learn to sew and cook.
I pin patterns to material every one inch. Mother looked at something and made it from several patterns and never pinned.
I wouldn’t mix patterns and for good reason. I made the only pair of walking shorts that ended up a tight skirt sown with legs. Don’t ask how it happened. There’s good, solid reasoning that only “I” understand.
If I could have figured a way for the legs to be separated, I could’ve been the inventor of leggings. Instead, I had a skirt/short that was so well put together I couldn’t walk, much less sit down. Plus it was a mess by the time I took it apart to try to read the pattern better.
Then the cherry incident happened. I claim fame to pie crust. I could flute with the best of them. I should’ve taken up sculpting.
I was a dismal failure at meringue and couldn’t stand those yucky eggs whites anyway, so I always made double crust pies.
For homework, I made a cherry pie. I was so proud of it because it really was pretty. It had the red juices oozing out of the top just like it’s supposed to–hot and ready to serve.
I put it in front of daddy and sat down waiting expectantly for accolades of how well I’d done, how good it was, and so on.
I wasn’t expecting him to spit out the first bite and hear a clunk on the plate.
I was horrified.
Daddy was choking.
The only thing he didn’t do was grab his throat and run.
I did the only thing I could. I sat frozen to the chair wondering what I’d done wrong; I’d followed the recipe.
He finally gasped I’d not pitted the cherries.
I went straight to the can and pointed to the pit part which I then realized must mean pits aren’t pitted.
Several morals apply.
Buy cherry pies, then you don’t have to worry.
Don’t choke around me, I freeze.
Especially if I’ve done the cooking.