That being said, there is one food item that I have tried to make time and time again, yet each time I meet with abject failure. I would not feed the results to my worst enemy. (Although, I wouldn't be above asking someone else to feed said results to my worst enemy, secretly... on my behalf...)
Yes, well, anyway, back to the topic: one thing I simply am somehow incapable of making edible in any way, shape or form. That thing is, unfortunately, one of my favorite desserts: sugar pie.
I... What? Surely you've had sugar pie before? No? Well, it is a confectionary delight, to be sure, that came from my mom's side of the family, and that is in no way good for you. All it is, is your basic pie crust, with a layer of flour, sugar, and some milk stirred together, poured in the crust, and baked for a little while until it's gooey. (There might be some butter in there somewhere, too. I'm not sure.)
You would think I could manage that.
You would be wrong.
Every time I try, it never sets up. The filling remains liquidy and otherwise fluid no matter how long I bake it, and no matter how many different ways I try to mix it, and no matter how many ingredient variations I use. My only recourse is to ask dear old Mom to make it for me. (Not that she's old. Did I say that? Old? Well, no, what I meant was "dear old Mom" as in, "wonderful woman who graciously whips up a sugar pie at Christmas and Thanksgiving because I am too incompetent to do it myself without making someone seriously ill or destroying the kitchen." Yeah. That "dear old Mom.")
This arrangement works out beautifully... unless my brother D happens to be visiting her at the same time. Unfortunately, sugar pie is one of his favorites, too. So, two years ago, at Thanksgiving, Mom made a sugar pie. And since my family and I arrived there first, I cut a nice, big slice for myself. I think I may have bragged about getting to eat the first piece before D got there...
Well, being the mature adult that he is, D waited until I went up to bed that night, then grabbed the freshly baked sugar pie from the kitchen and hid it in his room. Yes. IN HIS ROOM. He has a wife and child. They pay their own bills. They have their own place to live. Did I mention the "mature adult" part? HE. HID. IT. IN. HIS. ROOM!!!! The next day, he gave me his best ____-eating grin and announced he'd gobbled down the whole thing the night before. THE WHOLE THING! So, being the mature adult that I am, and being more than a touch gullible, I not only believed him, I pouted. Yes. Pouted. (I know - great example to give our kids. But honestly, do we ever really outgrow sibling rivalry? Do we? In the case of D and me... no.)
To make a long story short (What? Too late? Oh, well...) D brought down the pie. I think by the end of the visit, he got maybe two pieces of that pie. I'm not sure who ate the rest...