The Best Laid Plans....or Baking with Karen

My men were power-washing the deck on Saturday while I was busy making myself look too busy to power-wash the deck.  After all the laundry was folded (Like, seriously, all the laundry on earth.  Like so much laundry that it took the entire showing of Road House, complete with commercial breaks, to finish.), I decided to bake.  I had baked on Friday--a double batch of Sue's Famous Banana Bread--and we were running precariously low on baked goods.

I had been thinking about this recipe.  I actually dreamed about it, so when I couldn't find anything else to make myself look busy, I decided to give it a go.  It looked simple, and so yummy, and I thought it would be a nice finish for the pulled-pork sandwiches/corn-on-the-cob/baked beans/Greek salad I had planned for dinner.

I made it with the apples, like Ree did.  I was excited and hungry from working so hard at looking busy.  While it was baking, something bright caught my eye and I looked over to see a small fire burning on the bottom of my oven.  It went out.  It caught again.  It went out.  And caught again.  I stood there like a dummy.  I came to my senses and placed a baking sheet under the Springform pan (that Judie bought me!) and kicked myself for not remembering that the butter would get hot and melty and leak right out.

After the timer went off, they sat on the counter just a wee bit too long, probably because I was standing under the smoke alarm, waving my oven mitt (seriously, that Judie bought me) until Bubba stepped in and took over.  When I got around to flipping the Springform over, this is what it came out:

Sigh.

This is what Ree's looked like:

Photo by Ree Drummond

Sigh.

And this is what mine looked like:

It's not quite as aesthetically pleasing as Ree's.  This is why, I'm convinced, God gave me boys.  Boys don't care about aesthetics.  Boys care about being fed.  I care about aesthetics, but at this point I'm pretty used to my cooking and wasn't at all surprised with the outcome.

Fortunately, for every bumbled dessert there is a silver lining.  For this one it was:

Bubba and I dug in and polished it off in a flash.  Then we started in on the biscuits, which we ate straight off the plate with our fingers, and then again later with ice cream.

I'll definitely make this again, but here is what I'll do differently:  I'll spray the pan (duh).  I'll cut the apples (or pears, I want to try it with pears) a little bigger.  I'll put a baking sheet under it, not start a fire(s) in the oven, not set off the fire alarm, and flip it onto a plate in a timely manner.

The End.