FOR NO REASON
How I did it.
I baked a Peanut Butter Pie.
I started thinking about my favorite pie in November. The holidays are synonymous with baking for me, and I give myself permission to bake … a lot. Starting with Thanksgiving dinner and then again when Christmas was on the horizon, I surveyed my family, asking for their favorite dishes and desserts and quietly suggested my favorite—which nobody wanted. I did bake pies. And if I remember correctly, they were pumpkin and pecan, respectively. Both were delicious—but again, not my favorite.
It is now nearly the end of January, and today I baked my favorite pie—just for me. And I have to tell you, it was delicious! The crust was flaky and crisp, with just the right amount of saltiness to complement the creamy, rich vanilla custard. The peanut butter layer on the bottom and whipped cream topping were just like I remember from my childhood. I served myself a slice on one of my floral dessert plates, which are normally reserved for special occasions, and savored every single bite.
I also have to tell you that I almost didn’t do it!
I spent the whole week working up to it, or should I say, coming up with reasons not to do it. Sugar, dairy, and peanut butter are all inflammatory … and think of all the extra calories! It would take hours on the stationary bike to work them off. Not to mention that it just seemed silly to be agonizing over it!
On one hand, baking a whole pie just for myself was self-indulgent. I can’t remember ever having made a decadent dessert just for myself. However, I would make fantastical cakes for the kids’ birthdays in a heartbeat … an alligator cake, an airplane cake, a gecko cake, and a sunflower cake to list just a few. And there were the more sophisticated creations, like the crème brûlée, chocolate ganache, and lemon chiffon cakes for my girlfriends. Baking birthday cakes was my jam.
On the other hand, this wasn’t a special occasion. So was I saying that I’m not worth it? That seems a little too dramatic. But that’s something we do as Moms—stifling our likes to fulfill the wishes of those around us and feeling guilty if we don’t. But that was then, when the kids were home. Now that it’s just the two of us, I had more or less stopped baking.
Why did I do that? I enjoy baking.
Once I began assembling the ingredients, my mood became as lighthearted and hopeful as the Big Band Love Songs station I was playing on my phone. I chilled the glass bowl and beaters in preparation for whipping the cream topping ever so slowly to the enchanting voice of Ella Fitzgerald. I stirred the vanilla custard and baked the savory crust. There was no reason to rush.
And that’s how I did it. I baked a peanut butter pie for no reason.
This is part of what I’m calling Expeditionvision—trying things on purpose and paying attention to what happens. I’m not offering advice or giving instructions. I’m just sharing the way I did it. If there’s something that you’ve been wanting to do—but haven’t—I’d love to hear about it. I’m open to reader suggestions for future experiments.
Field Notes: For Paid Subscribers
Paid subscribers, I’ve added a short field notes section below with the part I didn’t expect, and a link to my first story about my favorite pie.