I know, I know, you're skeptical. After all, I don't seem like an idiot (sometimes), but that's only because I try not to flaunt it. I wouldn't want to make anyone feel inadequate because they did not possess the same potential for idiocy as I do.
Let's take yesterday, for example. The kids had a snow day, which gave me plenty of time to putter around in the kitchen. I was making spicy Mexican food for dinner, so I thought I would make a cool and creamy dessert. My plans for making a banana cream pie last weekend had fizzled out, so I decided that's what I would make.
I started by creating a thick, velvety homemade custard. The air was heavy with the scent of vanilla as it simmered on the cook top. Next, I set about making a pastry crust. It baked up beautifully; delicate and flaky, the fluted edges lightly golden brown. When both were thoroughly cooled, I combined them. I considered a meringue topping, but settled on whipped cream, instead. The end result was quite lovely. We could hardly wait until dinner was finished to cut the first slice.
As I prepared to serve this lovingly prepared work of art, I spied the bananas sitting on the counter and remembered something very important. The one thing I had forgotten to add to my banana cream pie was the bananas. A debate ensued as to whether I should still add them to the filling. They could be pushed down into the filling or placed on top. They could even be stirred into the filling, although that would certainly make a mess of the whole pie. In the end I opted to leave them out completely and call our dessert vanilla custard pie. I was embracing my inner moron, who, apparently, doesn't like bananas.