Food Doof Challenge, Day 4: Cheater, Cheater, Lemon Pie Eater?

Dearly beloved, I have a confession. LB and I are not eating dinner at home tonight, which appears on the surface to be a grievous breach of the solemn promise I made to y'all Monday night to eat all the bizarre and atrocious things lurking in my kitchen, for a week straight.

But seriously, I'm only human, and more importantly, I tend toward the flakier side of humanity, particularly when it comes to managing my own busy and demanding schedule of cocktail hours and hair appointments. Put simply and abjectly apologetically, I'm terrible about double-booking myself, and since the technology that would allow me to annoy people at two events at the same time hasn't beleaguered humanity yet, this causes problems. When I committed to a week of Doofery on Monday, I had forgotten that our friends Molly and Lee had invited us for dinner tonight, so natch, I said yes. I also volunteered to bring dessert, before I volunteered to not buy groceries for a week.

Upon realizing my fumble, I decided that I could make amends by bringing a dessert created only with foods already in my kitchen.

Time out. Did you think I was going to say that I decided we would reschedule with Molly and Lee for next week? Please. How lame would that be? "I'm sorry, I can't come over to enjoy your meticulously prepared haute cuisine, because I have a date with canned asparagus and crunchy taco shells. LYLAS!" Also, Molly is making homemade limoncello from her grandmother's recipe, and no one has ever made me hootch from scratch* before, so there was no way I was walking away from that. I pledged to destroy the excess in my kitchen, not the lifeblood of my social life!

I justified it with an intense case of denial the rationalization that if I were to cook a whole, fancy dessert from things in my kitchen, it was equivalent, at least in number of ingredients, to making dinner from the same kitchen contents. I had a pie crust in the fridge that I made last weekend that I needed to use, and I found a recipe for lemon chess pie composed entirely of random crap in my fridge. Making it helped me deplete the five-pound bag of lemons that I bought last week, for a reason that has since wandered out of my head, to get lost in the woods and never return.

The pie is baking right now, and it smells so much better than any of the oddities to come out of my kitchen this week. It actually smells so good that it has inspired in me a new idea for how to go to dinner with friends, and still stick to my challenge. We go to Molly and Lee's, take the pie with us, and while everyone else eats Molly's cooking, I take a fork to the pie and call it dinner.

What? You totally know that lots of people would eat half a pie and call it dinner. I mean, I'm just saying, I know people who have eaten a hunk of pie and called it dinner. Like people who live in my house. Who are named Grace.

So am I a terrible, unforgivable cheater who deserves punishment of a criminal nature?

*I would call it "scratch-hootch," but doesn't that sound like an STD? I know.