If you want to punch something repeatedly, just make a loaf of bread and knead it by hand. After ten minutes of that, you’ll be too tired to be angry.
I’ve never had shoo-fly pie, but I recognized the similarities in the recipes. It also reminded me of a nutless pecan pie recipe with extra stuff thrown in.
I think it was the cinnamon that ruined it. Or maybe the molasses. Those two flavors didn’t play well together with chocolate on top of everything. I like all the flavors individually, but not in a hodgepodge. It was just too much.
And I guess I haven’t been angry enough to make a pie like that again!
It sounds waaaaay too sweet for me!
I didn’t know the Weekly World News columnist did a cookbook! He must have been madder than microwave user at an Iron Chef competition.
Not so much a dish as a cup of coffee…
I’m sure there was anger in Jodie Foster’s mind when slipping cyanide into creepy Martin Sheen’s coffee in The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane.
It was for me, too. What made me angry was I had made it to bring as dessert for a very special dinner made by the most accomplished home cook I know, and I wanted it to be really memorable! It was… but not for reasons I’d hoped.
Silly aside: I’ve always hated that expression. Do the Klingons really strike you as those who have the patience for such an approach?
New England Boiled Dinner seems like who ever created it was either mad at the ingredients, the people eating it, or both.
here is one “angry” dish:
Nashville hot chicken originated in the 1930s in Nashville, Tennessee, born from a revenge plot by the girlfriend of Thornton Prince, a notorious womanizer. She doused his fried chicken in cayenne pepper to teach him a lesson, but he loved it, leading to the creation of what is now
The special meals Jane served to Blanche in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane.
And then whip the cream! Whip it good!!
Hey, hey, hey. This thread’s for dishes made with anger, not kink.
In Theater of Blood, Vincent Price makes a really nice soufflé. From Robert Morley’s poodles.
Beat ‘em like they owe you money.
You know it’s actually an old French saying, right? The fact that it’s a food simile is a good hint. The Kilngon thing was a joke.
Anything you get from Waffle House. Always made with contempt and tobacco ash.
When you pull in the parking lot and see your cook crouched by the entrance with a cigarette in his mouth followed by him putting it out with a audible sigh as he heads in, you know the food gonna be good.
Assassin’s spaghetti:
He was just riffing on Titus Andronicus, Act 5, Scene 3.
But I would doubt that a meat pie made from the flesh of the last two sons of the Empress, served to her and the Emperor, would taste better for the rage behind its preparation.
After a little research, it seems it wasn’t a soufflé, just a meat pie. With little doggie heads poking up out of it. Coincidentally, “Poodle Soufflé,” is the current working name for the hoary old “drying out the wet dog in the microwave by a space cadet” wives’ tale, at least according to Google.