Wherein I Honestly Reconsider My Vocation and Pretend I Could Be a Pastry Chef

I made a quiche a couple of days ago. What was so significant about this quiche--other than it was the first quiche I'd ever made--was that it was also the first time I'd ever made a pastry from scratch.

Behold the pastry!


I had to take a picture of it unbaked in case it fell apart during the baking process because, you know, pastry making seems complicated if you've never done it before and if you don't own a food processor expensive enough to do it for you. But, oh no sir! I will never let anything so insignificant as inexperience come between me and delicious baked goods. Really, I was born to make pastry. Now imagine doing jazz hands as you say it: I was born to make pastry! See, wasn't that fun?

Also, here's the finished project. Didn't I do a good job?

I would pat myself on the back, but, honestly, you know that perfectly flaky crust had to have been a fluke. I am, after all, the woman who once exploded a plate and set a kitchen on fire while trying to cook General Tso's chicken.

Cooking General Tso's chicken sounds like a euphemism. But it's not.

Other cooking successes as of late: olive and feta stuffed chicken breasts, spinach salad, and a wonderfully cheesy layered zucchini bake.

Misses: New England clam chowder that had the consistency of chunky puke.

And the petty escapades and antics of the Gaskin household never fail not to amuse...once again.