So, this Thanksgiving, I am to make the pies. Three Pumpkin and an Apple. I was going to start making them today, by making two pumpkins and delaying the third pumpkin and apple until tomorrow.
Until my Grandma started having a hissy fit. She was yelling and freaking out over the fact that they wouldn't keep in the fridge, and that they'd turn stale despite the fact that we've kept pies in there for roughly a week with no ill side effects. Despite what we explained to her, she kept yelling and screaming over how people won't want stale pies and how I need to make them on Wednesday. Houston, we have a problem. Making four pies takes a lot of time, and I only have a few hours to do things like bake after school. Not nearly enough time to make four pies considering the baking time of a Pumpkin pie is something like fifty minutes, not including the prep time and the time to make the dough.
I tell her (and here's the clean version. I added a few unladylike words here and there in the actual conversation) that if she wants the freaking pies made on Wednesday, then she can freaking make them!
She says "I WILL THEN." Although she hasn't made a pie for years, and up until this year it's been store bought.
We two have been having some baking disputes. Like just a few weeks ago:
Grandpa and I decided to get rid of some cake mix in the cupboard by baking them. So we decided to make an Angel's Food for Grandma and some triple chocolate for me and him. So I have the Angel's food all mixed up, and I put it in the pan (grandpa had went to the store for something) and was about to put it in the oven when Grandma came in wondering why I was making two cakes. Eventually she got over it, until she saw the oven rack's position.
"Ooh, that's much too low dear."
"It's fine, Grandma."
"Well, I baked cookies there and they came out burnt!"
"Grandma, Angel Food Cake is not a rack of cookies, and it's common sense not to bake cookies that low. They go on the middle shelf --"
While I was talking she had adjusted the rack.
"No! Put it back down! It's supposed to be down there!"
"No it's not! It burns down there, my cookies burnt down there!"
"That's where I ALWAYS put the Angel's Food Cake! It never burns! Just wait 'til Grandma gets home and he'll decide."
*Shutting Oven* "He'll just say I'm right."
*Front Door opens*
*I run over to the stairs* "Grandpa, when making Angel's Food, do you put the rack on the lowest rest or just above that one?"
"The lowest one. It should say that on the box."
"I TOLD you."
"BUT IT WILL BURN, EDDY. MY COOKIES BURNT DOWN THERE--"
"COOKIES DON'T GO ON THE BOTTOM RACK. ANGEL'S FOOD DOES."
"IF YOU WANT IT BURNT THEN FINE. I WON'T BE EATING A PIECE OF IT THOUGH."
Next few days? I didn't touch the cake, Grandpa didn't touch the cake, but the day after next the whole thing was gone, piece by piece. She ate the entire cake, and it didn't burn in the slightest. She just does this sometimes, and it gets very frustrating. Grandma, you haven't baked in years. Trust me. I've been using this kitchen for years, too.
I think she may be thinking that I'm overtaking her place as fancy baker of the house. I kind of am, but she gave it up years ago, and I've just recently felt ready to step up to the pedestal. She needs to realize that this is my third time baking pies, and even then, I usually only do one at a time, let alone two or four! I can't do four!
I'll be spending the rest of the afternoon with Mom. I just can NOT deal with the rest of the day here, with her in that kind of mood.