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A quick post about the pie off. I did not win. So sad. However there were 49 pies entered and my apple pie got one of the three judges’ votes and that made me very happy. I tried my apple pie, which is not actually my apple pie but a recipe by V (who has won the Malibu Pie Festival three years in a row) that I followed religiously, and it was excellent. I made the crust with butter and lard and the pie itself was great. I feel much more confident in my pie-making skillz and will definitely enter more pie contests in the future. Because I will win. Oh yes, I will win.
The big winner was RSG’s mom! She entered two pies and won three ribbons. The blue ribbon was awarded to a woman who sells her pies at the Farmer’s Market. So, well, she’s had a lot more practice than this Cali girl. BUT I STILL GOT ONE VOTE…in the fruit pie category, but WHATEVER. I got a sticker on my sheet! A tiny blue circle that equals love and respect and eternal admiration from an anonymous judge.
I had a blast. There were about 100 people there and I got to see so many friends. I also met some of my bloggy readers including the very, very cool Matt in Overlook and Jeanette and her partner Nan. Jeanette reads this blog, but Nan does not. I tried not to hold it against her, but I have faith that she will be reading my blog after meeting me because I can be charming in person. It’s rare, but the charm surfaces once every 30 years. Plus lezzies love me.
I’ll be seeing Jeanette and Nan on Monday and I’m storing up witticisms because I just can’t stand that someone I’ve met in person does not read this blog. Nan — you are mine. Oh yes, you are mine.
That’s me at the pie off. See, aren’t I charming? Thanks to RSG’s DD#3 for taking that pic. I didn’t take any pictures of my pie because I’m a moron.
Besides the apple, I made a chocolate pecan pie and I paired it with a Deschutes Black Butte Porter. One of the categories was best pie and drink combo. There was one other entrant. And she won. She made a rosemary blueberry pie and paired it with a dessert wine. I’m sorry, but this is a pie off. WHAT SORT OF WORLD DO WE LIVE IN WHERE BEER AND CHOCOLATE LOSES TO DESSERT WINE? IS THIS PORTLAND, PEOPLE? (Ooops, out loud voice.) I am not a sore loser, much. See, the pretty picture, everyone?
What else happened? Uh… lezzies, pies. That’s about it.
It was a great event and my congratulations and gratitude to LeLo, Radio Gretchen and Lizzy Caston for a most excellent time. It was just so good to see so many friends and eat good food. I vote for a chili cookoff next!
On our walk last night, Steve said, “You seem distracted.” And I said, “Well, I’m THINKING ABOUT PIE, NOW BACK OFF.”
I had pie dreams last night. Dreams about fruit splatter and burnt crusts. The Pie Off is on my mind, people.
I know mediaChick is making pie after pie.
Betsy Richter just bought vodka for her pie, which seems like a pretty good plan to me. And she’s putting her daughter in a Lelo apron.
I have a Lelo apron that I could wear too. Lelo is also a competitor and maybe she’d be intimidated if she saw me roll in wearing her Mapron with a wrestler on it and know that she sewed it FOR ME. Except it wasn’t for me exactly, but I OWN IT NOW. You hear me, Lelo — I OWN YOUR APRON, GIRL.
Lelo is preparing by being quoted on various food blogs.
The Oregon State Fair pie winner is praying to the pie deities and burning sage and sacrificing pecans or something. Whatever one does to win eight blue ribbons at the State Fair in a state where every single resident is required to make perfect pies.
RSG is, I don’t know, having lezzie sex, which would make any pie taste better.
As for me, here’s what I’m doing to prepare:
That’s right, I’ve forsaken my normal Starbucks mug to drink my tea from my Zuma Beach General Store mug. Given to me by my coach. THAT’S RIGHT, PIE LADIES, I HAVE THE LA TIMES ON MY SIDE.
I am also reflecting on my past baking disasters like the time I made zucchini bread and used salt instead of sugar. And the time I too made cookies with baking soda when it called for baking powder. And that one time I made wheat bread and the dough broke my Kitchen Aid stand mixer – a single tear falls down my cheek.
I’ve also spent some time meditating on the fact that I have no idea what makes a good pie. I don’t know if I’ve ever eaten a pie and had the sense to know what was good about it. I mean, a tough crust? Flaky dough? What? It’s pie. You’re eating it. Be happy, people. But I suppose the judges will know what’s what. And the other contenders who did not grow up near Bob’s Big Boy will know what makes a good pie.
But, I got an email from my coach last night and you know what it said? It said, “NO!” That’s all it said, “NO!” Are you shaking in your shoes, pie competitors? Well, you should be, people. YOU. SHOULD. BE.
And one other thing — I have entered a pie competition before. Oh yes, I have. I entered a little thing called the Malibu Pie Festival. And you know what, Pie People — I ENTERED A GALETTE. Now you know what you’re dealing with. Oh yeah.
1) Okay, I didn’t post the new Back Fence PDX story. Right? Stupid scheduling posts and whatever. It’s there now and just as good as I said it was yesterday.
2) The other day I made banana bread for my neighbors (they just had a baby) and as I was making it, I wondered why the loaf was so wet and why, when it came out of the oven, it was so damn small. Well, a few days later, as I was emptying the dishwasher, I realized that I had used the 3/4 cup measuring cup AND NOT THE CUP. So I shorted the recipe by one full cup. Right? Awesome.
I have also severely under-cooked a banana bread loaf I gave to them last year when the man of the house came over and re-wired our thermastat and turned the heat on. I’m grateful that way.
3) My blackberry jam has not set up. Even after a week. I planned to give a jar to these same neighbors because it was their blackberries that I picked and now I’m rethinking that plan.
Finally, and perhaps the list above might be a sign that I SHOULD NOT DO THE VERY THING I’M ANNOUNCING I’M GOING TO DO, I am entering the Portland Pie Off. I’ve made but three pies in my entire life. Two years ago when I was visiting my mom, I asked her if she could, you know, pass some woman knowledge on to to me and teach me how to make a pie and she said, “well, first we go to the store. Then we go to the freezer section and get a crust.”
That being said, I do not need a recipe or suggestions. I have a coach for this pie off. She is my pie guru. Someone in my corner who has not only nurtured my career but my psyche too. She is a best friend and always makes sure I KICK MOTHERFUCKING ASS behave appropriately and with kindness.
Shhh…everyone real quiet…there are other pie-off contestants who read this blog…shhh…*Me-Li-Ssa! Me-Li-Ssa! Me-Li-Ssa! California in the HOUSE!*
Or, as Steve just suggested, “Melissa’s hot, ain’t no lie, Melissa’s hot, Pie Pie Pie!”
I’d like to add that the woman who won eight blue ribbons for her pies at the Oregon State Fair is also entering the pie off.
Okay, wish me luck in the freezer section!
I’m so excited for Back Fence PDX day. Today’s story is by Rich from Overheard in PDX. It’s a great blog and people in Portland submit things they’ve overheard in the city. I might or might not have submitted to this blog in the past.
So, according to Rich, he didn’t catch the true part, but he did something very cool blending the real and not real. The story itself is speculative fiction and his brief description of the process of writing it is something to integral to the writing process: a dream.
I love both the inspiration for the story and the direction he took it. Thanks, Rich for submitting!
CLICK HERE FOR BACK FENCE PDX.
One more thing — Kiala Kazebee and I will be taking tea at the Ace Hotel in downtown Portland at 1pm today. Fans, paparazzi and friends are invited to come, ask for our autographs and our thoughts on important things like Forever 21, Pre- and Post-1975 literature and, of course, the secret to great hair.
Because I deleted myself from Goodreads and I don’t know that 90% of my high school is on Ravelry and is dying to know about my unadulterated success post-1993, I thought I’d join Facebook. Because, you know, I can do a mean kegstand and…wait…Facebook is not the domain of my freshman English comp students any longer. Actual adult human beings use it. They use it for something and I wanted to discover what that was.
On Saturday I decided to take the plunge and make a Facebook website, webpage, webparty, whatever. And I got this message.
Our automated system will not approve this name. If you believe this is an error, please contact us.
Why is that so big? Anyway, that’s what it said. So I contacted them and a few minutes later, I got this email:
“The Facebook Team has received your inquiry. We should get back to you soon. In the meantime, we encourage you to review our Help page (http://www.facebook.com/help.php). There, you’ll find answers to many common questions.
Thanks for contacting Facebook,
The Facebook Team”
I waited all through Sunday (I think India doesn’t have the same weekends we do) and Monday (maybe their Friday?) and nothing. This morning I told Steve about Facebook crisis. And he didn’t believe me because he’s known me long enough to know that as far as I’m concerned, computers run on evil fairy pixie dust and when they don’t do my bidding I take it very personally. THE FAIRIES HATE ME! (Harry, is that right?)
Steve said, “Let me try.” And he did and got the same message. And because it happened to him too, now he knows that it’s actually Facebook who hates me and not the fairies (though they do too).
So, I’m in a quandry. I feel bad that I am not a valid person on the internet because I don’t have a Facebook page, and what’s more Facebook won’t even acknowledge my existence, and I feel hopeful because when a door closes, a fairy loses its wings or whatever. And there is some other energy in the universe that’s going to ackowledge my validity as a human very soon.
Friendster, anyone?
We Californians are not religious folks. A proper Californian doesn’t go to church. For example, I’ve never been to church for anything but a wedding or a funeral. I didn’t know my family was actually Catholic until I was 25 and at my great-grandmother’s funeral and everyone was standing and sitting and shaking hands and patting their heads and rubbing their tummies and I had to ask my cousin WHAT IN THE HELL IS HAPPENING? Because I don’t play well with others, and, again, physical affection chills me to the bone.
This was at the same funeral that I met my second cousin for the first time and he was a full-tenured professor at a private East Coast university. He had graying hair at his temples and an actual tweed coat with elbow patches and because I believe in wearing a good bra for all occasions, and I don’t wear pantyhose, but rather, stockings, and though my skirts always hit below my knee, I felt very naughty hitting on my second cousin at a funeral because wow that was wrong. The lord and death and a familial relationship did not stop me from crossing and uncrossing my legs several times in the limo and smiling and touching his tweed covered arm all too often at the Ukranian restaurant we went to for the wake. And when all of you die, you can count on me to be at your funeral acting like a whore.
But we Californians are not bereft of spirituality. No. We worship just like everyone else, except the idols we worship are tangible, real and infinately more self-referential than any silly old religion.
Things we Californians worship:
The Automobile
Our cars are our heaven. They are our sacred place, our Ganges. They transport us to better places and offer us solace from the confusing outside world.
They also provide us with a heirarchy with which we use to judge whether or not the person in front of us is a suitable mate. I had a single guy friend in Oregon and he drove a small, old compact car and I informed him that no girl would go home in that thing. And then I remembered — Oregon. NOT CALIFORNIA. Girls here have values.
Physical Beauty
We self-flagelate for the purpose of attaining the state of nirvana called physical perfection. Like the hairshirts or the flogging so many acolytes have done before us, we punish ourselves through exercise, plastic surgery, that itchy feeling while dying one’s hair, and dieting, which punishes those around us far more than it punishes us.
Convenience
Fast food was born in California. 7-11’s and Circle K’s flourish. Malls and supermarkets, like the heartiest flowers are sought after and reveled in. These places meet our needs and awaken new desires while satisfying them all at once. They are our houses of worship.
Therapy
*And here’s the point of this post* In Oregon, people worship prescription meds and booze. In California, we loooooove to hear our own voices, and so talk therapy offers us both a calm mind and an hour where we get to do nothing but TALK ABOUT OURSELVES.
I talked with my therapist in LA two days ago and I feel so much better. SO MUCH BETTER. And now I’ve decided that I will return to the homeland quarterly to lie on V’s couch in Malibu (its own sort of therapy) and then go and speak with my therapist for brain tune up. I will also shop at malls, drive a car everywhere and diet just to ensure my pass through the pearly gates (please ignore my hitting on a family member at my great grandmother’s funeral. And the small Thai person I have in my basement doing my bidding.)
Amen.
1) Thank you so much to mediaChick and Rachael. My nummies are not faque. They are very real and the result of having a lovely rack pre-baby and then nursing a kid for 20 months, not my kid, of course. We fed Arch a steady diet of soda and crack. I just nursed some other kid I ran into on the streets.
2) This story seems to be a bit, um, how shall I put it — too little too late. And maybe like, say 17 years ago, the O should have invested their time and energy into something called the internets. Also, if they’re going to compare their lay offs to the LA Times, they might want to take that analogy a bit further and include the fact that the LA Times has invested a ton of money into their blogs and they do something some might call shocking — they pay their bloggers. Whereas the O doesn’t pay their bloggers and they don’t actually know what’s on their blogs. When I met with the blog editor, who wanted me to blog for them and also sign a contract for the privilege of blogging for free, I asked her where she got her news. “Blogtown PDX,” was what she said. I also asked her if she was aware that several of the blogs hadn’t been updated in months and she said she wasn’t and which blogs were those? Um, yeah. No.
3) This post made me decide that a trip to San Francisco is in order. I have too many friends down there and I must see them in their natural habitat. I must also take a trip down 18th beginning at Sanchez and hit every single one of my favorite places in the city. Stever, what say you?
4) And I’ve cast on for the embossed leaves sock. It sure is a great pattern.
Happy Saturday!
I am not going to look at you on Friday. This means no email or blogging or twittering. So say what you want about me. Remember people, the internets, as temporal as they seem, are also permanent.
If you need me, you may reach me by telephone. If you do not have my phone number, you may email someone who does. If you’ve received an email from me, then you have my number. If you feel you have not gotten my number, any one of the people in the comments section of most any of my blog posts has it.
You may not text because my texty texty is broken.
Good luck, internets. Be well, friends.
Because my blogging fingers are sore, I wanted to address my three readers’ suggestions in video format.
But first, I have been given a shout out on a very cool sex toy website. They also make real lezzie pron. I watched the free bit of some of the videos and wow. Those are real lezzies going at it. They are attractive bull dykie sorts. At least I think they are bull dykie sorts, I don’t really know what denomination of lezzie they fall into (little help, RSG?), but I was impressed by the video and after a day in which I received some bad news, the shout out was a very bright, bright spot.
To the video!
For those of you who don’t want to read yesterday’s comments, the people who posted were Robert, Intern Meagan, and Rachael. I also gave Crissy a shout out too, though I did not address her topic because I recorded the video before she left it. I’m psycho psychic that way.
I just wanted to say that.
Two videos are up on the Back Fence PDX website. They are very cool, so if you weren’t there, or if you were there and want to relive the glory then click on over.
I’m a little tapped for material today. Leave blogging suggestions in the comments and I’ll blog them as best I can.
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