My father might be an evil genius. Or perhaps he is just trolling me and it is all a joke and not a conspiracy to drive me insane. At the very least, it can be said that he is a man that works in mysterious ways.
This past Christmas, my father gifted me five large ramekins. This in itself is not strange. My father has gifted me instruments of baking persuasion in the past. Five is a little bit of an odd number, but not anything questionable.
The real mystery started with the discussion with my father on what inspired him to send me crockery. I am not complaining about the dishes, I am just curious. My father normally has something that inspired him. This something that inspired him happens to be chicken pot pie. The sort of chicken pot pie that has a flakey crust at the top and not the noodle concoction that is native to the area that I live. The question I had was where did he get the ramekins. The answer I received wasn’t clear.
After multiple conversations with my father, I have been able to deduce that the crockery came from some sort of place that sells these pies that can be heated at home. My father bought these delicious pies, ate them and saved the crockery. The ramekins are worth at least $9 a piece. My father assume that my husband would not be adverse to pot pies. He was enabling my husband to enjoy a pot pie life.
The concept that a place will let you make off with their dishware is foreign to me. If feels like a bad restaurant model to replace dishes with take out orders. I have begun to research how to send a pie by mail and if said pie comes in its own crockery. This search may have resulted in me sending at least on pie to a friend randomly.
My husband has a theory that my father is absconding with the pies and sending me the crockery to coverup the theft. I do not think my father is a pie thief. However my father has informed me that he has acquired more ramekins. My husband lives in fear that we will be taken over by pilfered crockery. The more I subtlety question my father about the pot pie, the more vague he gets. The more vague he gets, the more pie I make, so I can bring up the topic. My husband gets to live his best meat pie life as this mystery continues.
I have fixed over half a dozen different pot pies for my husband and brother in law since the arrival of ramekins. Maybe we all need to eat a little more pie in our life and not worry about the details of the crockery.
