Once as a Girl Scout, when my troop was out camping near a river. The river had a sign that said “No Wading” and the girls with me said “no wadding?” but pronounced it like “wah-ding” so I gently said, “it says no wading” (pronounced “way-ding”). The girls argued with me for a moment and I was so over their crap that I asked the nearest adult who confirmed my pronunciation was correct. The girls decided to recruit the other scouts to gang up on me after that and judged me for my proper grammar. It was inevitably one of the reasons why I dropped out of Girl Scouts — also because brown is so not my color.
Next was the time when one of the managers at a prior job told me I couldn’t wear skulls because they were offensive. When I gently explained that I celebrate Dia de Los Muertos, a Mexican cultural holiday that celebrates the dead, she was like, “well I’m Mexican and I don’t even celebrate that holiday, so you can’t wear skulls.” And I was like, “okay.. well I really don’t care what your nationality is but thanks for the background info, and bee tee dubs, I’m still wearing skulls mkay?” And she was all, “I’m going to fire you for wearing skulls!” and I was all “do it!” And she did, so I filed a suit against the workplace. For someone with a skull, she sure didn’t use it well.
And then, while attending the BlogHer 2014 conference in San Jose, CA this past weekend. At one of the parties I attended, there was a catered breakfast complete with a made-to-order omelet bar on one side of the room and your standard lineup of other breakfast fare on the other side.
Since I am not one to turn down free food and since it’s a well known fact that vacation calories don’t count, I immediately loaded up on hashbrowns, donuts, fruit and sausage from the other side and hopped in the omelet line for a custom creation. While the omelet-making woman prepared one omelet, she’d ask the next person in line what they wanted and started searing their mixins. So as she whipped up Trish’s omelet, I patiently waited for her to ask me what mixins I would like.
And she never did.
So I gently said I would like chopped ham, onions, pico de gallo and cheese, aka the exact same thing Trish got. The omelet-making woman looked me dead in the eye and pointed behind me to the table of other breakfast fare. “You can get your breakfast over there,” she said. I looked at her, then Trish, then the breakfast fare, then Dorothy, and back at omelet-woman. She was insistent. “There’s breakfast over there,” she said again, pointing to the other table.
So Trish piped in, “but she wants the same omelet that I had with the mixins right here.” The omelet-woman was like whatever Trish and continued to tell me I could get my breakfast elsewhere. I pondered what I could have possibly done wrong to offend the omelet-woman; perhaps mumble aloud that I liked scrambles better? I don’t know. It wasn’t like I insulted her long family lineage of omelet-making or her omelet-making skills or anything. In fact, I marveled at how cheesy and delicious every omelet before mine had looked.
I asked the omelet-nazi, formerly known as omelet-woman, why I couldn’t have an omelet. “But I want an omelet from here,” I said. “But I want ham, onion, pico and cheese, please,” I said. “Why can’t I have an omelet?” I asked. The omelet-nazi-woman was like, “we have hashbrowns over there, sausage, granola…” clearly avoiding this whole Hayley-omelet subject which quickly became a thing since now Trish and Dorothy were like, “but she wants an omelet!” and the omelet-woman was all “whatever bitches, I don’t need you!” as she dramatically dropped the skillets to the floor, threw up a deuce and bounced. Not really, but that would have been cool.
So FINALLY coming to terms with the fact that I would clearly never get an omelet from this omelet-nazi woman, she finally asks what I want in my omelet. I’m not sure what gave her a change of heart since usually omelet-nazis stick to their guns (or rather, rubber spatulas) but I was finally able to get my omelet. And sadly, it was really anticlimactic because it was decent, but looked nothing like Trish’s omelet and was just kind of meh, probably because I had to work abnormally hard at begging for glorified scrambled eggs with onions in them.
But ultimately, I’m glad I stood up for myself against the miscreant omelet woman because if I ever want to move forward as a person I must challenge my demons and stand up for what’s right. Stand my ground and tell that omelet-woman I’m not backing down without a fight. And that for the thousandth time, no, I don’t want hashbrowns and sausage. I want a mother effing omelet. This is America. It’s my right. Girl power.
And besides the omelet, the breakfast had catered some donuts as well which turned out to be infinitely better than any freshly-but-begrudgingly made omelet could be. Soft, puffy, plush and super glazed, I was in donut heaven. So I created a pie to mimic that same heavenly mental state after I bit into that pillowy donut — and after managing to defeat the omelet-woman.
- 2 dozen glazed cake donut holes
- 1 refrigerated pie crust, room temperature
- 1 stick butter, melted
- ¼ cup brown sugar
- Pinch cinnamon
- Pinch nutmeg
- 2 eggs, beaten
- 3 tsp vanilla extract, divided
- 4 cups powdered sugar
- 1 Tbsp milk
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Lightly spray a 9" pie plate with cooking spray. Press the pie crust gently into the pan and crimp the edges as desired.
- Halve the donut holes and fill the pie crust with the donut holes in an even layer; set aside. Meanwhile, in a medium bowl, combine the melted butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, eggs and ONE teaspoon of the vanilla. Pour the mixture evenly over the donut holes to coat.
- Bake the pie for approximately 30-35 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly. I highly recommend using a pie shield or tenting the crust of the pie to prevent burning and overbaking too quickly. Allow the pie to cool completely.
- In a medium bowl, combine the remaining two teaspoons of vanilla, powdered sugar and milk; vigorously stir to combine. Drizzle the icing on top of the pie and immediately garnish with sprinkles. Cut into slices and serve room temperature or warmed up.
This pie is a donut-lovers dream come true! The entire thing tastes like a gigantic, THICK slice of a glazed cake donut. Sweet, lightly spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg, and swirled with thick vanilla icing. Completely irresistible and worth every calorie! If you’re feeling extra indulgent, top with ice cream and chocolate syrup. Or consider using chocolate donut holes for a richer pie. Pie for everyone!!
Have a fantastical Monday!!