Tuesday, May 24, 2022 The Sour Cream Raisin Pie Incident

As part of my college training to be a dietitian, I had to take some sort of food service administration class. There was a campus cafeteria and part of our training was in practical experience. One day I was assigned to work part of the breakfast shift at the cafeteria. I was relieved that I was actually just going to be shadowing the regular cook, since I didn’t really know much about the finer details of making eggs to order. I followed the regular guy around with my hands hanging uselessly at my sides. It was going really well until he informed me that he wanted to take a cigarette break. PANIC! I hoped nobody would come while he was gone, but a fellow came over wanting an egg over easy. I wasn’t actually sure what this was, but it seemed self-descriptive and I didn’t want to tell him I was clueless. I bustled around confidently with an air of “I’ve done this a million times,” and cracked the eggs efficiently onto the griddle. Then my desire to do it right overcame my pride and I broke down and asked the customer when I should turn them. He kindly stuck around and talked me through it, probably wondering why I’d been hired. I was a nervous wreck until the cook came back.

My next practical experience came when several of us were asked to help in the main kitchen working on baking and cooking more substantial items. I was assigned to make the sour cream raisin pies. My instructor and supervisor, Louise Mullan, came over to tell me that this was Dean McFarland’s favorite dessert. He always came over to eat on the days that sour cream raisin pies were featured. Miss Mullan was a bit of a toady when it came to Dean McFarland, but she was a genuinely nice lady. The recipe wasn’t too difficult to follow and I was pleased with the three pies that I made and put in the fridge to be put out the next day.

I was assigned to the kitchen again the next day and came in happy and full of the milk of human kindness…until Miss Mullan asked to speak to me privately in her office. She was upset and looked as somber as if someone had died. I was alarmed without knowing why. She shut the door and turned to me, saying reproachfully, “We had to throw out the sour cream raisin pies you made. Dean McFarland took a piece and brought it back – it was inedible. You put in too much gelatin and they were tough as rubber. I know you didn’t mean to, but it was an awful mistake and I was embarrassed to have to take responsibility for your carelessness.” As Scooby Doo would say, “Ruh Roh.”

I apologized, I groveled, I volunteered to make them again, but the stakes were too high. I knew the Dean by this time and I think he might have been chagrined to know the fuss that was made about this incident. Still, I think Miss Mullan was well within her rights to read me the riot act. This was her turf and she did, indeed, take responsibility for the mistake instead of blaming it on me. I’d like to tell you that I was never careless again in reading a recipe, but that wouldn’t be true.

One last point: sour cream and raisins do not belong together in a pie. Can I get an amen?

There’s no raisin for me to delete this blog post pie tomorrow.