I made a pumpkin pie this week. It's not like the pumpkin was fresh ... it was from a can. It's not like the crust was homemade ... it was frozen. But still, I went against all family genetics, busted through generational biases and made a pie.
You see, I grew up in a no-baking household. My mother convinced my sister and I that our oven didn't bake. She was an excellent savory cook, and we knew that the oven worked, but whenever we asked for cookies, or cakes, or any sugary delights, we were told by my mother, "I am really sorry, but our oven doesn't bake". And being the trusting children that we were, we believed her. When I was about 8, we moved -- and can you believe our luck? The new oven didn't bake either! We were very disappointed.
So it's been a slow road to baking. I started to realize that I could overcome it when my sister started showing up at family events with baked delights. Then my mom and aunt called me one night after a baking bonanza (accompanied by quite a few margaritas). It was a revolution! Finally, at thirty years old, I was going to overcome my issues and BAKE A PIE. And it was great. And I was proud.
