Yesterday actually was an amusing day. You couldn't tell that from my slogging determination to lay the park to rest! I also had a very short shopping list to fill.
Today is far too late to remember what was on my list. I can say, the list was divided between Dollar General and Kreigers. The former plebeian, the latter more esoteric.
Oh, wait, I just remembered two crucial parts of the list. Cornstarch and paper towels, if I could find them. My last roll of a three roll pack of paper towels is essentially gone and no replacement at Dollar General the last several months.
Cornstarch, that essential of our grandmother's cupboard, came from Kreigers, which I found when I stumbled again on my crostata recipe, last spring. And I had five peaches to turn into peach crostata sooner than later.
I pulled into the left lane to turn left for Kreigers when suddenly my head swiveled to check all my lanes, and I pulled back into the right to go to Dollar General first, and then complete the square back home.
Sometimes the covid shallowness of my life just needs a kick in its ass. I reversed my route!
Way at the end of the Dollar General aisle, a single pack of toilet paper graced the stack of empty shelving. Par for the course, and I continued along. On a whim I swing right into the baking supplies aisle, looking slowly up and down. All the way, up and down.
Why? Obstinance. You cannot buy spices at Dollar General. You cannot buy buttermilk. But, might as well look. At the very end, on the left, top shelf, box after box of cornstarch. Out of my reach, of course.
A man was stocking shelves at the other end of the aisle. "Young man..." said I, and he came and reached me down the most important purchase on my list. I only bought one one pound box. That could be a mistake, since the first was used since May, and does not have the requisite two tablespoons of cornstarch left in the box!
Continuing to the back of the store, I stopped and stared at the package obviously enclosing twelve rolls of tp. Either the separation between top and bottom was indistinct, or this was the only package of paper towels I've looked at since March. Literally the only package, since floor to ceiling and left to right, it was the only thing on the shelves. And, six rolls, not two.
Into the cart, through checkout and home, to have half a tomato sammie for lunch, and get on with my peach crostata.
Hot water bath and cold water plunge, and the skins slipped right off. These weren't cling free stones, but the peaches cut easily away. The slices filled the measuring cup right up to the four cup mark. I was on such a roll I used brown sugar. Praline, yes! One went into the oven, one the freezer, ready to bake.
I set up the cooling rack and watched the oven carefully. I like mine baked to a nice shade of chocolate/peanut butter! The timer rang and I still left it two more minutes.
I reached both hands into the oven. I didn't pull out the rack. It sort of sticks and I need to find out how to solve that. I also did not have a solid grip on both handles of the pie plate.
I rose to standing, lifting my arms a bit more, reaching to the right to put down the plate. The pie plate slipped through my fingers, did a complete somersault and landed. On the floor. The pie plate landed, unhurt, on its bottom.
The crostata landed folded in half, like an omlette.
A big spatula in each hand, I beat the five second rule. By a lot.
It didn't unfold as neatly as it folded, and I've snacked on the crusty deliciousness of the missing edge. It is the best peach praline crostata I've ever made!