What Do You Get When You Cross...?

*from the cooking ashes..er..archives*

This is almost a true story. I say almost, so I can (hopefully) avoid a visit by the EPA, OSHA, and Martha Stewart.

Readers have oft-times heard about my serious dysfunction in the kitchen. Proof of which was recently renewed when I, while boiling water for pasta, set off the smoke alarms in my humble, suffering abode. Rumor has it that my smoke detectors are set to speed dial 911 anytime I get within 10 feet of the stove.

I'm here to tell you, it ain't a rumor ;-)

Despite a reputation from childhood for being Chef Boy R Deestructive, I still take occasional potluck shots at something different. Most recently, I took a shot at making a pie. After all, how hard can it be to make a pie? Hostess makes tons of 'em. So do Sara Lee, Marie Callendar's, and cows.

Years ago, a niece -- too young to grasp my absymal lack of culinary acumen -- once asked me "how do you make punkin pie?" My immediate response ("start out by getting it a math degree") got me a resounding *BONK* with a roll of Xmas wrapping paper from my sister, and I digress. So with the plan to make a pie in mind, I called the family expert on such things -- Ma. After being chided for not calling often enough, I asked her how she made a punkin pie. She told me, then casually asked why I wanted to know. I told her I was gonna make one. After a moment of stunned, deafening silence, she said "in that case, don't forget the fire hose".

Some kids' parents.

Last Christmas, a local radio sports show clown made mention of making "punkin pie in a can", using a Boboli pizza shell for the crust. Apart from cracking up his show co-hosts and horrifying Betty Crocker and Pizza Hut, one other unintended consequence resulted: I heard it, and had one of those tell-tale *TOING*s.

Now, one so void of culinary talent as I am, you'd think I'd steer soooooo clear of this idea. But I got to fauxthinking: what about the guy who invented pizza? Did he know what would result before he tried the first time? How worse off we'd all be, if innovators shied away from trying something new and different, because it was unfamiliar to them. All the great visionary ground breakers incur some risk enroute to great discoveries and creations.

Absolutely none of which applies here.

I went to my local grocery to purchase the necessary elements of my own ground-breaker, giving little thought to what it might do to the ground if I dropped it and it ate its way to the Earth's core. The store clerk -- she knows me on sight, and vociferously denies it to all within earshot -- raised an "oh, no" eyebrow at my combination on the conveyor belt before her, and dared to ask me what I was doing "this time":

Me: "I'm going to make a punkin pizza pie!"

Her: *rolled eyes*.."Gawd..."

Back home, I cleared the decks for action (aka, got all the other flammables out of combustile range), and began the laborious process of making one of my certifiable messes. I measured, mixed, beat, stirred, splattered, colorfully metaphored, prepped, and finally ladled my punkin pie mix atop the crust, careful not to let any of it spill on a hot surface in case it had explosive tendencies I hadn't reckoned on. Into the oven it went at 350 degrees, and I confidently set the timer for 60 minutes (chronology, not Mike Wallace).

Before the hour was up, I knew it was done: the smoke alarms were in full hue and cry, and I'd already opened the patio door to vent some of the billowing fog of culinary faux pas out, so's I could venture into what was left of the kitchen and see what I'd wrought.

It was done, alright. So might the ability of the self-cleaner on the oven to cope with the aftermath, but that's for later. Naturally, never one to leave well (done) enough alone, I had to sample it to see if the aroma was indicative of the taste.

Take my word for it; it was.

Thus I dubbed my once (and never again) creation, punkin pie con carnage. Kids, don't try this at home. Or in anyone elses'.