Thanksgiving disaster

Well, that's what the pie was. I was just going to comment on Kate's post (on our family blog) and confess to all the pie disaster but I also wanted to post a picture of the centerpiece (taken a few minutes ago rather than on Turkey Day), so I may as well make this a grandiose and lengthy post. Let's take the good news first.

1. 
   The centerpiece. No, this is no work of amazement. It's just what you see. 4 candles in the shape of pears on a silver platter and some red prettiness. But the stroke of genius was what I used--at the last second--as the red prettiness. Last year I had the missionaries gather fall leaves as their contribution to dinner and used them in the centerpiece. We didn't have the missionaries this year. I didn't want to gather leaves. Lo and behold, as I was wishing for holly berries, I saw our stash of FIREBALLS in the candy jar. Yes, these are the same fireballs that we inherited from my parents when we got married; I think the only person who has eaten them is Neill. They are proof that candy lasts as food storage. So I just popped a slew of them out on the platter and am mighty pleased with the result. Thank you, Kate, for being impressed. If anybody else is as well, please say so.


2. 
   My house. It was really quite prepared and clean. For this very reason, I am not as ashamed as I probably ought to be about the pie.


3. 
   The turkey. My first turkey! I cooked it in an oven bag with rosemary, sage, thyme, celery, onions, and apples. It DID turn out well and I even saw Christian eating some as leftovers the next day when there was Winfield's birthday pizza freshly delivered. That's when you know it was good! It wasn't dry and had great flavor. Why can I boast about this? Because I am now prepared to tell you about the pie.
   

The first risky thing I did was to use just raspberries rather than raspberries and blackberries (which equals a razzleberry pie). The blackberries were absent from Milwaukee groceries. The second mistake was that I didn't make it before putting the turkey in the oven. So, I knew I'd have to bake the pie just as we would all sit down to dinner. I really felt like a culinary show host at this point: I pre-measured my ingredients and had everything assembled and ready to toss, fill, flute, and slide into the oven. Only one dish would then go into the sink. Does anybody appreciate that? I sure do. And again, this is why I'm not really as embarrassed as I should be about making a pie disaster. Is a good pie better than a clean kitchen? I don't think so. I mean, I'm sorry for Kate because she's the one who took the first bite, and that must have been awful. I'm certainly not proud that I caused her to spit out the pie, and cry out "Laura!" I just crinkled my brow and said, "That bad, huh?" I've never seen Kate spit out my food before. Next she choked out, "Salt!" And that's when I remembered taking my 1-cup measure to the wrong jar. Instead of sugar, I'd baked that raspberry pie with salt.

Everybody in the ward knows about it now. Who should I invite to dinner?