Day 50: Just Cobbled Together

Sadly, I wish I had made some really cool plan for what I would do for Day 50 of this blog. Can you believe we made it to 50? I couldn't have done it without you!

I woke up Sunday a little foggy. Mark and Jen headed back to Jacksonville and I was forced to endure the pain of my decisions the day before all by myself. Apparently, when I decide to do something, I do it. So if I'm going to crash a wedding, I'm going to do it in style, complete with the following day headache and anxiety.

But the blog doesn't care how I feel. I said I would do something new everyday for one year and that means everyday.

I was drinking scotch on Friday and crashed a wedding on Saturday, I needed something a little wholesome. Cook something. That's my solution to doing something I've never done before when I don't feel like doing it. So Day 50's thing I've never done before was to make a fall favorite, apple cobbler.

If drinking scotch is refined and bad-ass, I would say cobbler is the exact opposite. Cobbler is my Grandma, who was a lot of awesome things, but bad-ass she was not.

I don't know how it got its name, but the great thing about cobbler is that it is literally just cobbled together. Perfect for me and for this day. Annoyingly, like the pumpkin pie, the recipe called for two cups of diced apples and I had no idea how many apples it was going to take me to get there. So I bought an entire bag of Granny Smith apples (and ate the leftovers for several weeks). And I still have an embarassing knife collection, so I ended up peeling the apples with a butter knife.

Of all the desserts I've ever made, I find cobbler to be so misleading, in a good way. It tastes like your grandmother slaved all day over it, when really it was just me! And it didn't take long at all.

And though I don't recall a specific occurence, I'd be willing to bet that my dad has eaten cobbler while drinking scotch. I ate this cobbler without the scotch.

And, are you ready for this? That's all I have to say about that.