It is the night before the world-renowned Women of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church bake sale that accompanies the Men’s Club BBQ. I actually have a lot of issues with the women baking cookies and the men staying up all night drinking beer and nursing a smoker, but we’ll leave that for another day.
So my original plan was to take off work early today and bake cheese and chile cornbread as my offering for the sale. I was considering throwing in a pie or two. A leisurely afternoon baking. Women’s work, you know. Have I mentioned that I am a member of a competition BBQ team? Have I even brought up the fact that my competition chicken has won awards? I am sorry. I did not mean to go there and I will stop NOW.
But instead of that, work intervened. There were people bringing furniture. There was a U-Haul to unload. Do you even understand how hot it is in a warehouse in Tennessee in July? Even remotely? Betsy, my comrade at arms, and I even had to pause for a little nip after we hauled $3,000 in school supplies off the truck. Just something to steady the nerves.
So there was no baking done today and there will be hell to pay tomorrow. At least in the bragging rights department. I have had steady e-mails all day from the Women of St. Paul’s as to what they are bringing. I am the titular head of the bake sale, although that is a sad, sad statement since Julie Reinhardt, Leslie Fraser and Wanda Woolen have done all the work. I made a pathetic flyer to go in the Sunday bulletin. Have I told you that I am a Certified Master Barbeque Judge? Have I? Once again, I apologize. I have stepped over the line.
There will be a full report tomorrow on the pecan tartlets, the lemon squares, the banana bread, the blueberry cheesecake and – God willing and the creek don’t rise – the cheese and chile cornbread.
So did you actually think I was going to teach you how to make pigs in a blanket? You can do that with crescent rolls and little smokies. Or just buy them like I do. Nathan’s are the best. Accept no substitutes. The ultimate comfort food on a night when:
A. The boys are both gone.
B. There was no time to bake.
C. I accumulated enough sweat this afternoon to water the Cheekwood Botanical Gardens.
D. There is beer drinking and the smoking of large haunches of meat going on right now. But I am a mere baker of cookies or cornbread. Not bitter. No, not at all.