and a curse. This morning, I'm going to let it be a blessing and mention no
names. However, if you know me, you'll know who I'm writing about without
Ok, so there is someone I know who is getting puny in her old age, but
doesn't want to admit it. She was to have company on Saturday, and she felt
that she needed to fix a big meal for her guests. I thought I would offer to
help, so I said, "I'll make that peanut butter pie for you, if you want.
Just bring me the stuff, except for the butter, sugar, vanilla and peanut
butter, and I'll mix it up for you."
She brings me the cream cheese, pie crust and whipped cream, and I made the
pie. I took special care using my mixer, to insure that it was as mixed up
and fluffy as I could get it. I also took care to ladle the pie filling in
to the crust, so that I would not over fill it. I smoothed the top with one
of those flat, rubber spatula things, put the top on and set it in the
fridge. My husband, bless him, even said it was the nicest looking pie I had
ever made. I told the lady who I made it for to keep it in the fridge over
night to give it time to set. So, what does she do? That evening, she cuts a
piece and tells me yesterday, "I ate a piece of that last night, and it was
a bit runny, but good."
Having not seen the pie for myself, I hated that it was runny, but figured
it would be all right. So after dinner, which I'll tell you about in a
minute, I asked for a piece of the pie. And, y'all know what? It wasn't
runny at all! It was smooth and creamy and it had set correctly! And, yes, I
am proud of myself!
But, while cutting a piece, one of the guests says, "Oh, that looks good!
Are there 2 layers to it?"
"Know," the hostess says, "it's just where Shannon didn't get it mixed up
very well, I reckon."
Now, that would not have been so bad, if she had not been complaining all
after noon. Her husband had been trying to help her cook, but she complained
about the type of butter he put in the green beans, how much flour and
cornmeal he used to make the corn bread, and how large the chunks of
potatoes were. "I'll never get them mashed up," she said about the potatoes.
Thinking I might be of some assistance, I opened my stupid mouth and said,
"When they are done boiling, let me know. I'll mash them for you."
I mean, I do cook for my family...sometimes.
So, when the potatoes were done, I proceeded to take the mixer to them.
Someone adds butter and milk, and I keep a-mixin'. After a few minutes, I
stop and stick a finger in there, and low and behold, they are lumpy as all
get out. Then, the hostess says, "Honey, you got it coming out the side."
Well, excuse me, but I'm used to mashing potatoes in something bigger than a
small sauce pan, so that I don't make such a mess.
Anyway, I turn the mixer on high and go round and round the edges, and the
hostess says, "Honey, that looks fine."
"No it doesn't," I tell her. "It's still lumpy."
"I don't see any lumps," she says.
Then, she asks the guest to see if there are any lumps, and the guest agrees
with me. So, I continue to beat the taters, adding salt as I go.
Finally, they were done to suit me, and we sat down to eat. Everything was
good, and then came the peanut butter pie thing. So, even though she wasn't
able to beat the potatoes, or mix up the pie, I didn't do as good as I
Well, le'me tell y'all something, if you can't see well enough to get the
lumps out of your taters, shut up and let someone else do it. If you don't
know how to make a peanut butter pie, shut ye pie hole and let someone who
does know how, do it. If you don't like the way it looks, be polite, say
thank you, and when you are alone, learn to do it yourself. I was only
trying to be nice and offer to help. I mean, I take care of Terry and my
girls and we make it just fine. There's nothing wrong with my 2 hands that I
can't offer to help someone who needs it, but if that's the thanks I get...
Well, now I guess I've spilled the beans on how a blind woman cooks. Yep, I
use my fingers a lot. Don't worry, if I ever cook for you, I'll be sure to
wash my hands, but y'all, my fingers are my eyes, sometimes. How else would
I know if the taters were lumpy or not, if I didn't feel them? How would I
know if the peanut butter pie is mixed up or not if I didn't touch it? And,
here's what might scare you...how would I know if the water is boiling if I
don't hold my hand over the pot and feel the steam? Yes, I do all these
things. Sometimes, when cooking with a crock pot or slow cooker, I even put
my fingers down in there. When I pour hot coffee, I put my finger down in
the edge of the cup and when the coffee burns it, I know the cup is full.
lol When I fry hamburger, in a big pot rather than a tiny skillet, I get
some on the spoon and feel it to see if it is done. Course, you can tell by
the way it feels when you stir it, if it's done or not. As for draning
pasta, well, you put ye colander in ye sink, hold your pot at the side,
check with your...fingers! Right! To see if you have it lined up and pour.
Sometimes, I get pasta down in the sink, but mostly, this works. As for
baking things, timing is the key. Oh yeah, and I've also touched things like
my bread and cinnamon rolls when they are just out of the oven to see if
they are done. You got to be more careful here, as the pan is mighty hot,
but if you are careful and use a very light touch, you won't get burned.
Ok, so I didn't intend for this to be a cooking lesson for the blind, but,
hey, maybe some folks need it. ;P And, just FYI, the best way to eat a blind
woman's cooking, is with your eyes closed. :D
Fshew! I feel better! Thanks for letting me vent! :)