Piece of Shit Blender Pie

Piece of Shit Blender Pie (aka Fresh Corn Butter Pie)

I am trying not to panic. Bad Manners (previous known as Thug Kitchen)’s new cookbook is coming out and I preordered that shit ages ago. I’m so excited that I could scream a muffled scream into my hand so that I don’t freak out the people that I live with. (It’s the little things in life people; the little things that bring us joy – like good times with friends, the release of a new book or film you’ve been looking forward to, kittens and puppies for fucks sake.)

So why am I trying not to panic?

Because I am crazy enough to have thought that I could cook a shit tonne of recipes from the TK Party Grub Cookbook and 101: Fast as Fuck before the new cookbook Brave New Meal came out. I was hustling and bustling in the kitchen with pots boiling over, spaghetti burning to the pan, spice jars losing their lids and overpowering a meal to the point of inedible-ness. But still I was never going to make it. I was rushing and that was my downfall. My teacher used to say ‘More speed, less haste’ Well, you were right Mrs-What’s-Your-Face. You were right about that…even if you weren’t right about saying that I had the handwriting of a schizophrenic person. Thanks for that by the way. You lilac-wearing, potato-eating, Nancy-Drew-reading misogynist.

Anyway, I had no hope in hell of getting this done.

But if there is one thing I am good at, like a real fucking life expert, it’s going down with the ship.
So, on we go baking, chopping and stirring until that god damn delicious book arrives on my doorstep and says the end has come. I’m not giving up. Let’s see how far we can take this challenge.

So it was time for the Fresh Corn Butter Pie.
Spoiler alert dudes: there is no butter in it.

I donned an apron with tiny colourful muffins on it, “Purple Haze” by Jimi Hendrix was blaring in the background, and I went to town on this recipe’s ass. Cutting the corn off the cob felt borderline aggressive and entirely dangerous. Especially because the music was so loud that if I slipped and punctured my jugular no one would hear me cry for help. Okay, okay, that sounds impossible, and it probably is, but a) the mind goes to dark places, you gotta train that bad-boy to behave itself and not picture worst-case scenarios, and b) you haven’t seen me cook. Sometimes when I swing a knife the cat runs away in distaste and fear. Shit could happen.

Anyway, once the corn was shucked or whatever it’s technically called I tossed it in the blender with the other stuff. If you want to know how to make this for yourself then get out your cookbook to page 184 and you’ll know what ingredients to add instead of playing some fucking weird guessing game. Don’t play ingredient-roulette with your guests tastebuds man, just order your own copy of the book and be done with it. No need for food poisoning. All I can say for sure is that there was brown sugar in there…and vanilla. Sooooo good.

I blended this shit like Bad Manners said to do, I even gave it longer than instructed fearing my blender/food processor wasn’t top dollar enough for the task. They said ‘You shouldn’t have to go for more than a minute and a half if you have a decent blender. You know what kind of garbage shit blender you are working with, not us’ Well, I have come to realise something that I didn’t realise at the time. My blender is a piece of shit. It’s like a dodgy plumber that you hire, who assures you that he will take care of the job, and then he leaves you with a dripping tap, a leaking radiator and a bill the size of your sofa.

I stared at my food processor. It stared back. We both had a moment of realising our limitations. Just like there was no way that I’d be able to live up to the impossible cooking challenge I’d set myself, this old girl wasn’t cut out for the corn butter pie task either. I patted her on the head and moved on, filling the pie crust with the delicious smelling (yet slightly lumpy) filling I’d just created.

Once the pie was done, the kitchen smelled DIVINE. if you could bottle that smell and sell it, you’d be a god damn millionaire. (Just an idea for you Bad Manners – scents that you could get rich on. Every household would want this amazingness. It’s like a full body hug for the nostrils.)

We waited an appropriate amount of time before slicing – though it was HARD to wait with that smell controlling my brain – and topped with the amazing whipped cream recipe that Bad Manners share with you on page 219. Just look at that beautiful golden colour.

Unfortunately, though the taste was good, the consistency was AWFUL. Not Bad Manners fault, it was my food processor/blender/piece of shit/garbage’s fault. Not that we need blame really, it’s not that old girl’s fault that she was playing a game that was out of her league. But unfortunately it meant that it was chewy, and not like a fudgy chewy brownie, but more like a you got-something-weird-in-your-teeth-grittiness-with-random-corn-seed-skins sorta feeling. You dig what I’m sayin’?

So, if you make this, make sure you get a good blender for the task. Borrow one from the chick in the apartment next to you, or ask your mom or something. Just don’t expect your old AF blender to be able to work a corn-miracle for you, unless you have some fairy dust and magic words to incantate or something equally mystical.


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