P-Dub does the Impossible

I volunteered to make an “Impossible Pie” for a luncheon.  No biggie.  I love to bake.  I can’t boil water but I love to 

B-A-K-E.  Anything cooked in the oven IS my comfort zone.  Sweetness can have those burners on the top of the stove all to himself…the oven is all mine!  No problem. 

My Mom would make ‘Impossible Pies” to take to church dinners or funeral suppers.  I love these pies.  I was looking forward to making one. 

I have to admit, I started this project a little full of myself.  The directions said “it’s impossible to make a mistake.  Stir all ingredients together and put in a 10” pie plate. Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes and let cool in the refrigerator”.  I can do that.  No problem. 

People will be counting on me to bring this pie.  Lunch is tomorrow…..I’m in charge of the dessert.  No problem. 

One of the ingredients is ½ stick of butter, melted.  That means I have to use the top portion of the stove…..where the burners are…to melt the butter. …Sweetness’ area of expertise of said appliance, not my area of expertise of said appliance.  No problem.  

Sweetness was busy getting higher educated when I started this project so, I told myself…”I can melt butter”.  I was single for a very long time before we got married and I never missed a meal.  I’m not sure what I ate all those years but I assure you, I never went hungry.

How should I accomplish cutting this stick of butter in half?  Lengthwise?  In the middle? Should I Google this to see how the experts do it? Nah.  I’ll take my chances and do it my way.  No problem. 

As I was cutting the butter in half, I heard something on the other side of the kitchen.  Turning to see what was causing the noise, with my knife still in the butter........as I was turning around......half of the stick of butter flicked onto the floor courtesy of my knife.  

Butter flicking.  It should be an Olympic event.  How far can you flick half a stick of butter with an ordinary kitchen knife?    

The kids were on standby just waiting for me to drop something.....they got to the butter before I did.....just in time to lick it a couple of times before I could retrieve said half stick of butter and put it in the trash.  Phooey on using the stove, I’ll melt the blasted butter in the microwave.  No problem.  

After melting the blasted butter the next thing was to “mix all ingredients together and pour in a 10” pie plate”.  Sweetness left our (one and only) pie plate on the counter before leaving for school.  Bless his heart.  What would I do without this man?  

The OCD kicked in and for some unknown reason I decided to measure the pie plate.  It’s 11” across, from one edge to another, flutes included.  I need a 10” pie plate, not 11”.  Will it make a difference? I hope not, this is the only pie plate we have.  Holy cow.  This could be a problem.  

Out of sheer curiosity, I measured the inside dimension of the plate.  It’s 9 ½” which means I’m ½” short of what the recipe calls for.  Hopefully, in the baking world, it won’t be that big of a deal.  I hoped this wouldn't be a problem.  

The next obstacle was this white stuff called ‘flaked coconut’.  I need 8 ounces.  The bag Sweetness bought is 14 ounces.  I know 8 ounces is a cup so, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to use my ½ cup measure and dip it into the bag of coconut twice (in case you’re wondering:  I’d already used the 1 cup measure for the sugar and I didn’t have another one and wasn't smart enough to just wash it and re-use it).  

I was feeling pretty good about this "Impossible Pie" as I dumped the coconut into the bowl......until I realized the measuring cup wasn't full....of coconut. 

Apparently coconut is sticky and likes to form into balls of itself when dipped into with a measuring utensil.  Oh great. How do I know how much extra coconut to add to make up for this deficiency? This big hole of emptiness where coconut should be?   This is a problem. 

After setting 2 timers (just in case), being on the phone with my brother and Sweetness getting back from school, the timers went off and I pulled out the most gorgeous thing I've baked in a long time.  

The coconut floated to the top and was a light golden brown, the self rising flour made a thin crust on the bottom and the whole house smelled like coconut.  No problem!