January 24, 2012
As a pastor’s wife I cook a lot, whether it’s providing a dish for an event at the church, taking dinner to a new mom, or hosting people in our home. As a result, I am always on the lookout for quick and easy recipes.
Well, imagine my utter and unalloyed joy when I found this recipe with just two ingredients.
One 16 oz angel food cake mix
One 15 oz can of lemon pie filling
Mix ingredients together and bake in a 9×13 cake pan at 350 degrees for 20 minutes. As they are cooling, you can sprinkle with powder sugar if you wish.
It wasn’t too long after discovering that recipe that the day came when I needed to provide not one, but two desserts for two separate events. It was actually supposed to be my day off but I thought, “How long can it take to throw together a couple easy recipes? I’ve got the easy lemon bar dessert in my arsenal and I can do peach cobbler and it won’t take long at all.”
And so I set myself to baking.
I whipped those two ingredients together, patting myself on the back the whole time for finding a recipe that was not only easy but also delicious-sounding.
When the oven timer beeped, I ran to the stove with alacrity, anxious to see firsthand the dessert masterpiece I had created in just a few minutes of time.
Lovely, isn’t it?
Um. Unfortunately those are not my bars.
No, these are my bars.
Have you ever tried cutting something into square bars that is endued with a pudding like viscosity?
It ain’t purty.
After I had stared in horror at my lemon non-concoction for a few brief moments, I sent a quick email to the lady I got the recipe from to see what I might have done wrong. We finally figured out that in the original recipe, she had neglected to post the can size for the pie filling and I had gotten a can that was 8 ounces bigger than what was needed. Hence the gooey, non-bar like bars. She apologized profusely for the mix up and immediately went back and put the actual quantities in her recipe. (And by the way, the quantities in the recipe posted here are the correct ones.)
I sat there for a minute and pondered. I had less than an hour before the first dessert was supposed to be marching out the door in the hands of my hubby and I just wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do.
Then it (happily) occurred to me that since I had the ingredients on hand for the second dessert (a quick and easy peach cobbler), I could make that for the first dessert and go to Plan C for the second dessert. So I grabbed the ingredients, threw them together in something close to a panic and stuck the cobbler in the oven.
However, when the timer beeped forty minutes later, the top of the cobbler didn’t look quite brown enough to me, so in an unparalleled show of intelligence, I turned the broiler on high and got distracted doing something else.
I was now just twelve minutes away from the time Steve was supposed to be leaving with Dessert Number One in tow and I had no more tricks up my dessert sleeve. So I did what all good cooks to in moments of burnt-top crises–I started picking off the burnedness.
Now I realize that picking off the burnedness is not a professional cooking phrase you are going hear bandied about on Paula Deen’s TV show; however, I have a feeling that if you have been cooking for more than a few months, picking off the burnedness has at one point or another, been an unfortunate part of your life.
However, even after the burnedness picking off had been achieved, said dessert was still lacking quite a bit in the attractiveness department and so I got the idea of enrobing the entire catastrophically ugly cobbler in a delectable white gown of powdered sugar. Because, as we all know, powdered sugar covers multitudinous cooking sins.
And then? Then it was time to shove the disguised dessert into the hands of my husband as he was walking out the door and move on to my second dessert of the day which was due one hour after the first one.
And I had nothing.
So I rummaged through the freezer in a dessert-finding frenzy and discovered some cheese cake I had flash frozen a few weeks earlier. And then I remembered there was some sugar cookie dough in the fridge and white chocolate chips in the cupboard so I stuck ye olde chips on ye olde cookies, baked ’em in a flash and arranged the assorted end result in a napkin-disguised, foil pan.
I went and had a nap.
And a cookie.
Thrift stores, fuzzy socks
and conversing with my Yorkie
are all on the list of things I love.