ëItís done - that thing popped outí
Posted 11/27/02

Okay, you may think Iím harping on this cooking thing, but Iím struggling with it lately and Iím not sure why.
Maybe a faithful reader or two will have some words of wisdom to get me through this cooking catastrophe.
Hereís the deal. Itís Thanksgiving and though Iím not hosting the annual event at my home this year, I still have to prepare for my part. Appetizers.
Normally, I cook the pies. I enjoy cooking the pies and I was even given Nana MacKayís famous apple pie recipe.
It was quite a coup in my husbandís family when they learned she had rattled off her secret recipe to me.
Nana has since passed away and I am now the designated apple pie maker. I am pretty darn good at replicating her famous pie I might add, but mainly itís because no one else has the recipe.
So, though my sister beat me to the pies this year, I didnít take it to heart. Okay, my ego was bruised, but no tears were shed.
Instead, I volunteered for appetizer duty. I can handle this, I thought to myself. Itís just appetizers, no big deal.
But since learning of my new culinary task, Iíve had a few mishaps in the mighty-scary-at-times kitchen.
Attempting to make banana bread the other day, something Iíve done more times than I can count, I was somehow distracted. One tablespoon of baking powder was put in the bowl instead of one teaspoon.
Now, if you donít cook, that may not seem like a big deal, but trust me - it is!
After scooping out enough to where I felt like I had only one teaspoon remaining, I continued on.
"Wow, that was really dumb. Better pay attention, Dawn," I told myself.
But, apparently moments after my lapse in judgement I did it again.
Instead of grabbing the brown bottle of vanilla extract, I reached for the large brown bottle of red food coloring.
The outcome was not pretty.
What sat before my confused eyes was a crumbling, undercooked loaf of pink banana bread.
My son loved it. My husband wouldnít look at it, never mind try it. I forced myself to eat some, but it was thrown out just a couple days later.
I brushed off my pink loaf experience and moved on to bigger and better things.
I invited the neighbors over for a pre-Thanksgiving turkey feast.
Knowing we wouldnít have any left-over turkey from the holiday, since itís going to be at my sisterís home, I decided to make one a couple weeks before the holiday.
I reasoned that we could all fill our bellies with other treats rather than turkey on Thanksgiving day.
I had a nice, small nine-pounder for the oven and told the neighbors to head over around six that night.
The boys and I went for a hike through the woods after the turkey was safely in the oven basking in melted butter and garlic.
Upon arriving home, my husband decided to pull out the turkey and baste it (one of his best culinary skills) and he quickly commented, "I think the turkeyís done. That thing popped out."
"No, that canít be. It needs to be in there for another hour and a half," I replied.
"Well, come look at it. Itís brown and it looks like itíll be burnt if you cook it much longer," was his reply.
"Oh, yeah, master chef, what do you know about turkeys?" I thought boastfully to myself.
Apparently, plenty.
Okay. So, once again I was wrong! That turkey was so done!
I sheepishly called the neighbors to see if they could come over a little sooner.
"Sure, what time?" they asked.
"NOW!" I replied in a panic.
Needless to say, my counting capabilities were the topic for discussion the rest of the evening (twenty minutes per pound for a nine-pound turkey shouldnít be too difficult to figure out).
Iím starting to doubt my appetizer-making abilities and Iím stressing about what I should make. Maybe Iíll keep it simple - veggies and dip.
Iím still not sure why my sister nabbed pie making for the holidays. I thought it was understood. Dawn makes pies - itís tradition. I mean, itís not like she knows about any of my recent mishaps in the cooking department.
Or does she?