pie so sweet you’ll slap it right out of grandma’s fat mouth


“Honey pie” is not just a grotesque term of endearment—it’s also an actual thing that you can bake. I found a recipe on Pinterest for salted honey pie with rosewater and was charmed. I mean, how poetic, right? Forager bees steal nectar from flowers and then vomit it into their hive, where it sits for a while and becomes honey. What better way to encapsulate this magical process than within a pie?


via the blog Take a Megabite

Locating the rosewater was tricky. I did not find it at any grocery store or pharmacy. I contemplated making it myself (all you have to do is boil rose petals), but then I realized that would make me the biggest asshole ever. So I checked out the pretentious capital of the world, a.k.a. Whole Foods, and found some in the aromatherapy section.


Hmm. I wasn’t sure if it was safe for consumption, so I scanned the ingredients list:

Ingredients: Vor-mag Water (water that has been vortexed and magnetized to raise the energy to a higher vibration that we believe to be more beneficial), and Rosa Damascena (Hydroessential Rose) Flower Oil.”

So, rose oil and water with magical powers. Sold. I told my brother about the magic vortex water in the pie crust, and he said, “Diarrhea isn’t a magical power.” Well, you can’t be too sure.

This recipe calls for every possible formation of sugar and fat, so it tastes kind of good in the same way sucking a sugar cube tastes kind of good, until your teeth start to hurt.


Here’s what you’ll need:

• 2 1/4 c flour (I’m at my parents’ house for Thanksgiving, and they only had whole wheat flour, so that’s what I used. Consider this the “healthy” version!)
• 2 tbsp. sugar
• 1/4 tsp. cinnamon (I might add a little more—I couldn’t taste it)
• 1/4 tsp. kosher salt
• 1 c butter, i.e. 2 sticks, cut into teeny tiny pieces “the size of a pea” (I warmed mine first so it would blend better. Don’t do this. Cutting warmed butter is the opposite of easy. It sticks to the knife blade and turns into giant blobs. Am I handicapped?)
• 1 tbsp. rosewater (I added about a tbsp. and a half, to amp up the magic)
• 7 tbsp. ice water
• egg wash for glaze (this is just an egg white whisked with water)

• 3 eggs
• 1/2 c heavy cream (ooh, it’s gettin’ nasty in here)
• 3/4 c sugar
• 3 tbsp. cornmeal (I had to ask what this was at the grocery store…)
• 1/2 c melted butter
• 2 tsp. white vinegar
• 1/2 tsp. kosher salt
• 3/4 c honey (I made sure to use local honey…does it seem like I’m becoming more and more of a douche bag?)
• 1 tsp. vanilla
• kosher salt for sprinkling on top of the pie (the source blog calls for “pink sea salt,” but obviously I’m not taking it that far)
Mix together all the dry ingredients for the crust, then add in the little pieces of butter—or, in my case, the giant melty blobs—and blend. Add in the ice water and rosewater gradually. At this point I used my hands to knead the dough into a homogenous lump.

Roll the dough out onto a floured surface, like wax paper taped to a table. Roll until it’s about 1/4 inch thick, then sprinkle it with more flour and gently fold it in half (my brother taught me this trick). Carefully lift the dough onto your greased pie pan and lay it atop the rim, then unfold it. The flour should prevent it from sticking together. Pull off excess dough and save it to make “cute shapes” that are really just a waste of time, as you’ll see in a minute. Crimp the dough, or make little hearts or whatever the hell you want to do with it.

For the filling, whisk together the eggs and cream in one bowl, then add in all of the other ingredients in a separate bowl. We want to dirty as many dishes as possible during the holidays. Add the egg and cream mixture into the other ingredients slowly. Brush your egg wash over the crust (which you may want to chill for a few minutes. I don’t know why, just do it), pour the filling inside, and top it with fun shapes. Inspired by the “honey” label adorning the pie from the original recipe, I decided to make a tiny hive and two bees out of leftover dough. They looked OK pre-bake.

Swiftly, they sank into the pie filling as if it were quicksand. Some of the hive stuck out, just enough to look really weird and like a mistake.

Bake the pie at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes. The middle of the pie will still jiggle when you pull it out of the oven, but once you allow it to cool for a couple of hours, it will set up nicely. Sprinkle generously with salt, and enjoy a future of diabetes!

french fried friendsgiving


Whenever I have a Friendsgiving (for those unfamiliar—like Thanksgiving, but with people you actually enjoy spending time with) to plan, I always opt to make green bean casserole. Why? Because it’s probably the easiest thing you could possibly make, aside from shaking cranberry gelatin out of a can, and it tastes like what Jesus would have for breakfast.

At least, the first few bites do. Then you start to feel kind of nauseous, but you just have to keep eating because it’s Thanksgiving and we love America.

* * *

Here’s how the classic and ubiquitous green bean casserole was invented back in the early 17th century:

Squanto: Hey, Pilgrim Joe. Happy…Thanksgiving.

Pilgrim Joe: That’s an interesting word. I like it.

Squanto: Cool. Once you finish burying that fish with all the corn kernels, I have a question for you.

PJ: What’s up, man?

Squanto: OK. So I have a bunch of green beans, and I’m not sure what to do with them. Let’s play a game. How do you think we could turn something relatively nutritious into the most unhealthy and nutritionally void food imaginable?

PJ: Uh…add smallpox?


PJ: Hey, man, I’m just messing with you. I would say, like, deep fry them and mix them with—I don’t know, condensed milk?

Squanto: That sounds disgusting. But I was thinking about the next closest thing. We could fry some onions until they can no longer be classified as such, add them in and then top it all off with heavy cream.

PJ: Holy crap. I think you’re on to something.

* * *

And so it was: essentially, the first Friendsgiving. Now grocery stores sell everything pre-cooked and pre-fried in cans to make it even easier for us. No growing or harvesting—just pull the top off the can and viola.


Here’s what you’ll need:

• A couple cans of condensed cream of mushroom soup (I literally have no idea how they manufacture this)
• A couple cans of pre-cooked, cut green beans
• One of those big ol’ cans of french fried onions
• Some salt, black pepper
• 1/2 c milk (I used soymilk…should still be OK, right?)

Mix together the green beans (drained, obvi), the mushroom soup (I used one full 10.75 oz can and half of another one, so about 15 oz total), the milk, and some salt and pepper to taste. Then add in, like, half of the onions.


Pour into a casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes. I’m not sure what baking does since everything is pre-cooked; I even tasted it before I baked it, and it was pretty much the same afterwards, only warmer. Pull it out, sprinkle on the remaining onions, and then bake it for another 5 minutes or so, until the onions on top are crisped. I mean—more crisped. Browner. Or, you can do what I did and just wait until one of your friends calls out from the kitchen, “It smells like burning.”

To compensate for the unhealthiness and sodium content of the casserole, I whipped up a salad with all my fave salad ingredients: baby spinach, goat cheese, pecans, craisins, strawberries (note: spinach and strawberries are two foods that you want to try to buy organic because they usually have the most pesticides. I know, this is a departure from my usual focus on not burning things), and blush wine vinaigrette. We also had mac ‘n’ cheese, potatoes, and beef for the carnivores.


Happy Friendsgiving to all! My family recently started a turkey-frying tradition where we submerge the bird in scalding-hot oil, and all the men sit around it outside drinking scotch and smoking cigars and talking about how cool it is to fry a turkey. My mom stays inside and talks about how the turkey will probably explode and decimate everything within a 5-mile radius.

I’ll keep y’all posted.