Fluted pie pans! How I despise thee. Let me count the ways. You quietly control my pastry concoctions, always forcing the proper curve to my crust. It doesn’t make me feel very accomplished to be able to press dough into slots that have already been perfectly apportioned out. The dough fits neatly into the indentation of molded metal.
Instead, when I see pans like the one pictured above, I feel like the book for dummies has just been broken out. Who made this the only shape anyway?
By the way, is it the only shape? Anyhow … not important.
Pans like these take the variable out of baking and leave a big, fat constant. Now, I don’t mean to pontificate in such mathematical ways, but the creativity and individuality seems lost with a template pan; never mind the fact that baking is in itself a mathematical process that must have the proper measurements in order for a recipe to turn out correctly. I want the opportunity to screw it up before someone, or something, informs me of the contrary.
Take the picture below for example.
Perfect crust. Mine would never look like that, but that’s okay. The crust must correctly undulate around the edge of the pan like some smug, serpentine dance that I don’t know the steps to. No matter if I use my own digits, or the end of a fork or knife, or the handle of a wooden spoon, the end result is the same.
Note the absence of any molded pattern on the pan. This person has a skill - whether innate or taught, a skill nonetheless. This baker had a choice to make the scalloped edges slanted instead of mechanically vertical. The result is a professional-looking, homemade treat. No pseudo-professionals here.
One day I will learn the dance, and when I do perfect the moves, look out.
Just my observation of a mundane experience, encountered with a dash of frustration and a heaping of sarcasm, rolled out in the style of a quasi-satire.