DIY : Friendsgiving 2k18 – Grace Hartzell – Medium

Warning: The following contains no information regarding coding.

First off, I feel obligated to ensure everyone that I do not condone the use of “2k18” but that I used it as more of a joke since one of my “pies” came out as more than just a joke…

Second, I like to think that I’m at least somewhat of a good cook despite having been previously banned from the kitchen growing up (for very logical reasons).

How it went down

Dillon and I were visiting my parents in Houston about a month ago and there was a piece on the news about the “original pumpkin pie” and it looked quite scrumptious and worth the experiment. Being honest, I mostly wanted to nail the recipe so that I could brag about it to my family to prove to them that I could beat them in the kitchen now. By the time a Friendsgiving was suggested in our little apartment complex, I knew I wanted to try this out and took to Google to find a recipe. The search wasn’t quite as fruitful as I’d hoped and I ended up going with a recipe that looked promising… A major flaw in this entire ordeal was that I neglected to read through the full recipe. Had I done so, I almost certainly would not have attempted it because it’s chockfull of odd bits, from the size of the pumpkin to leaving it in your carport over night despite saying it would be ready in 1 hour and 15 minutes.

The morning of, I took a trip to the local HEB (lovingly nicknamed “Sketchy HEB” because multiple stabbings have occurred in the parking lot resulting in at least one death) and found the closest pumpkin I could to the recipe’s specification. This sucker was about 14 inches in diameter and about 6 inches tall. The recipe calls for a pumpkin that’s 4–5 inches in height and 18 inches in diameter. That was where the first red flag should’ve been. So I invited an old climbing buddy, Zach, under the guise of a catching up tea party.

I got my other two (regular) pumpkin pies in the oven, some tea made, and got to carving and prepping Big Bertha. When all of the innards were scooped and the custard was prepped, I crossed my fingers in hope that the custard would magically fill the pumpkin and leave the 3/4 inch between the filling and the top of the pumpkin that the recipe promised. No such luck was had. It was so abysmal that neither Zach nor myself remembered to take a picture for future laughs.

Placed outside in exile while waiting for it to cool off.


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