First published in the Tri Town Transcript Jan 30, 2017
By Esther C. Baird
One of the things that happens when you are part of a church, or any community group, is that people get sick and people have babies. Sometimes people have a baby and then get sick. Or, sometimes they have a baby who grows up to be an adult who gets sick or has yet another baby. The point is, there are always babies, and there are always sick people.
Therefore there is always a need for … meals. I’ve received meals, and, yes, I’ve made them. But, oh, that is not a good option.
It’s not that I begrudge making meals, but more that dinner is already a total stretch for me as a human with offspring.
I can follow recipes, but the truth is I rarely do. I’m a recipe skimmer. Don’t confuse this with natural talent where I intuitively sense what a meal needs. No, it’s just that I cut corners. I think recipes are overwrought and fussy. That precise, exact, amount of parsley? Really? Guess who could care less and is chopping the entire bunch because if I leave it in my fridge it will get slimy.
So, since I work at our church, I decided to remedy the meal deal by setting up parties where women could hang out, make a ton of meals at once, throw them in the freezer at church and then disseminate as needed.
Dinners are hard; parties are easy! We call them Freezer Frenzy Parties, and we hold them a few times a year. We ran one last week, and I was able to step out of planner mode and actually help assemble the meals.
I tackled trimming the crusts of the chicken pot pies. My friend watched me as I begin to rip off the overhanging crust with my hands.
“Huh, have you never trimmed a pie crust before?” my friend asked, semi-politely and obviously in jest because what 42-year-old woman hasn’t trimmed a pie before, ha ha ha.
(Dear Regular Readers, I’m going to tell you a secret; don’t tell my friend. I have never trimmed a pie crust before — neither for a chicken pot pie nor for any pie. Ever.)
I smiled at her in response, and she handed me a paring knife. “You might try to use this …“
Oh. I started hacking the extra crust off with the knife; that was easier. So there. I could do it. I mean, what was the big deal. Trim. Trim. Easy!
I looked over, and she had carved a little fleur-de-lis into the center of her crust, or maybe it was the state flower?? Why was she carving decorations into the crust anyway!?
She smiled. “That’s to let the pie vent when it bakes.“
Well. My pie was going to vent through the holes in the trim where I had butchered it. How about that!?
The other ladies, working on the lasagnas, were stacking the noodles and ricotta layers so that every surface was covered perfectly.
“I studied to be a chef for a while. I just love cooking and working with food!!” This came from a mom who is not only a genius in the kitchen but also has a great sense of fashion with perfect hair that she can wear in complicated braids like a fairy princess even as an adult. So, though we’re friends, I had to restrain myself from flinging pie trim at her.
The whole point was to cover the drudgery with a fun and easy party! And yet, I was on the verge of giving a future household in need a chicken pot pie with no vents that would explode in their oven, which was not really the sort of relief a meal was meant to provide.
My pie-crust friend gave me a mischievous, and definitely perceptive, look. “You know, why not just let me trim the rest of the pies?”
I handed her the knife and returned to my, umm, operational role. We made 12 meals that night, and I proudly photographed each one as we placed it in the freezer. And I’ll keep doing that, just until people stop getting sick or stop having babies …