I know Thanksgiving is probably a distant memory for most of you. Visions of sugar plums are replacing sweet potatoes with marshmallow topping, but I’m still processing Thanksgiving, or at least my intestines are. I haven’t had a chance to talk to my gluten-free friend, Enid (hey I think I just invented “GFF” or maybe it’s ” GFFF”) Any who, I’m hoping that her gluten-free pies were better than my homemade pie fillings contained in store-bought gluten-free frozen pie crusts, which I actually put in pretty pie plates to make it look like I made them myself (big mistake). Yes, in a moment of weakness, I decided to forgo repeating the agony of trying to make a gluten-free pie crust from scratch. Truth be told I was never good at the pie crusts with gluten. But the gluten-free involved a lot of patchwork and recalibrating. They were ok, but the filling stole the show and any flaws in the crust were forgiven. This year I decided to “go for it” and ALL the pies were gluten-free. I have apologized to all my guests, but I still don’t have closure. If I could remember the name of the company who produces this product, I would send them a letter that would just say “why?”  It was too good to be true of course, and it was my own fault for falling for the perfect frozen texture, the glossy packaging promising me a regular, normal, easy-breezy Thanksgiving. In the end it was my own fault. I should have known better, but I let myself believe that I could have my pie and eat it too. I wish I had taken a picture of it, the pie shell that could not be cut with the sharpest knife in the house; the pie shell with all of the filling scooped out of it; the children  bending it this way and that. It never broke. Then there were the comments…”on the bright side you’ve discovered a new roofing material.”