Pie-making yesterday went wonderfully. I got some beautiful strawberries from the little produce market across the street to go with my beautiful rhubarb, and crust-making went really well.
The pie came out gorgeous and smelled wonderful. I couldn’t wait for it to cool a bit so that I could dig in and try it!
It tasted divine! Smitten Kitchen’s all-butter really flaky pie crust really makes it. Wow, that crust is wonderful, and so easy to make. I was really pleased with the whole deal.
So, I ate my slice, wrapped the remaining pie up in plastic and called it a night.
This morning, I woke up to this.
O.M.G. Someone destroyed my pie!
It couldn’t be Madori, she’s much too short, so that only leaves one culprit.
Whoever would have thought a cat would go for a damn fruit pie?!?! I’m chalking this up to uber-pregnant kitty hormones, and have learned my lesson: No more pies left where a certain someone can get into them. Ever.
It’s also worth noting that a certain someone also really enjoyed the pie’s crust.
So, that crust recipe gets an official paws up from La Casa de Weasel.
Is is wrong that—despite the teeth marks and cat slobber—I still want to eat the pie? It was so good…I can’t bring myself to throw it away yet.
That would be really gross, though, wouldn’t it?