You may now have pie...

...rhubarb pie, that is.

Since it is so intermidanbly dull to simply sit around and bewail my current lack of shipped cargo boxes (or delightful husband for that matter!), I've been taking matters into my own hands and have been doing some baking.
But not eating the baking...those of you who remember the infamous fry up of last Sunday (which is still working its way through my spleen and lower colon) will recall that a health and fitness regime was pledged to begin that day. I've been sticking to it, with a rigorous program of yoga, running, and pilates to be followed daily (boredom is a wonderful thing and will make me slim yet!)
However, there's the urge to bake. So I cleverly came up with the idea that I would bake something that didn't necessarily appeal to me - something I would glean pleasure from making, but not be tempted to eat in one go in a frenzy of gorging.
Hence - pie.
Also, rhubarb is a typically English dessert-thing, thus I figured I'd better learn it's secrets so as to further ingratiate myself with the locals and blend in seamlessly. Plus, although my grandmother used to make pies out of it, I'm pretty much a rhubarb virgin.

...and we can't have that, now can we?

The first thing that went wrong was the top crust - which I forgot to roll out and add to the pie, which I had lovingly blind-baked, filled, and popped into the oven. I blaim the English and their measuring system - they bake with scales and weights and gas ovens and yard sticks, and the whole thing threw me off my game. Had to improvise a top crust with a variation on a crumble - so actually, I've make a new hybrid dessert: a "pumble" or "crie". I think "pumble" sounds better, but let's put it out to the blog world...what do YOU think?

Still no sign of my cargo or my husband...maybe tomorrow I'll make a cake.