There were expletives. The kids were taking naps. So there were expletives.
Grabbing the hot pads, I flew to the oven, undid the safety latch, and saw the beautiful crust being swallowed up by the bourbon sugar pond in the middle. Game over, pie crust.
Pie fail.
Until.
Until I remembered I had made extra pie crust from Melissa Clark. You know, that perfect pie crust? With the duck fat? Even in failure, I still had this situation under control. I poured the bourbon sugar pond into the sweet potatoes, threw away the now-soggy pie crust, and began rolling out Melissa’s crust. It behaved perfectly like it had heard the expletives from inside the refrigerator. Par-baked it just as instructed in the Four & Twenty Blackbird recipe. I whisked together the sweet potatoes with the bourbon and sugar (which is noticeably thicker with sweet potatoes included, go figure).
And the pie was perfect. Set up just right and tasted of depth and caramel sweetness. And a little kick of bourbon.
After that adventure in failure, I needed more bourbon. So I made some bourbon whipped cream (cream whipped without sugar, some bourbon splashed in). And that was a great touch.
But I needed more bourbon.
I looked at Karen and said, “I want to dip this in warm bourbon.” Which has to make a wife proud. A bit of bourbon in a small bowl. Ten seconds in the microwave. A dip into the rich brown liquid with the tip of the pie, then a plunge into the whipped bourbon cream.
And this is pie. A triumph out of failure. A boozy victory. A perfect pie.
