@stephchach

Seattle adventures, life, home, and coffee—in no particular order

Crisco (Or, like mother, like daughter)

My mom’s secret ingredient really freaks me out. It’s on the list of top 5 white trash kitchen must-haves. It’s not fresh, it’s not local, and it’s definitely not healthy. I’m almost a little embarassed to say it.

Crisco.

Ok, it’s out there. Gross, right? I’ve been avoiding it for what seems like my entire life. My mom was constantly baking when we were younger. Of course, I always wanted to lick the spoon (and, in the process, eat nearly the entire bowl of dough–who doesn’t?!). The fee for a delicious batter spoon? It usually involved having to grease the cookie sheets. With Crisco. This meant shutting your eyes, reaching your innocent little hand into the giant Crisco can, scooping out a grease-soaked, crumpled wad of wax paper, and trying like hell to make contact with the cookie sheets while clutching that horrific lard wad–eyes closed all the while. It was traumatic.

Because spinach quiche is one of my favorite foods, I’ve been experimenting with various pie crust recipes. None of them my mother’s, mind you. That would just be…gross.

Finally, I decided enough was enough. Who has the time (or the freakin’ patience?!) to make a crust that involves perfectly-sized cubes of butter that require 24 hours in the freezer?

I called my mom, sucked it up, and bought an enormous tub of Crisco. (Wearing sunglasses and a hat pulled low over my eyes, but let’s not focus on that.)

Mama's lard-tastic little helper

I’ll leave out the gory details. Like having to scoop an entire cup of solid, unmoving white lard into a bowl of flower. Like trying to figure out how to transfer the majority of the white lard that refused to take the leap into the flower bowl. Like the sheer joy I felt when–finally!–I was able to make the perfect pie crust…only to be reminded that the perfect crust came at a steep price: admittance into the Crisco Club.

I grudgingly informed my mom of her sheer genius when I removed my two perfect quiches from the oven later that evening.

So, mom, you’re the best. And that Crisco? It’s alright.

Hers (spinach, green onion, and sweet onion: delicious) and His (ham: sick)

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One comment on “Crisco (Or, like mother, like daughter)

  1. Nicole
    April 8, 2010

    Yum. (The end result, not the Crisco.)

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This entry was posted on April 8, 2010 by in Uncategorized.
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