So my mom made this dessert for Thanksgiving.
It was two kinds of pie baked into a cake. Apple and pumpkin. She saw it on Rachael Ray. It was okay. I didn’t think it was that great, actually, but it was, like, a novelty thing. The lady who’d been on the show had said that she made it because nobody could ever decide whether to have pie or cake at her restaurant, so she made both. None of us thought that was a very good backstory. Anyway, my mom couldn’t remember what the thing was called, so while I used my internets on my phone to look it up, everybody tossed around suggestions. “Pake.” “C-K-ie.” Nobody could decide whether that one started with a C or a K, so it was discarded. Then my notoriously ditzy aunt brightened suddenly with inspiration and said, “Why don’t we just call it COCK!” It was great, because for about 8 seconds, she looked SO proud of herself. Like she had completely solved the giantest mystery. The rest of us sat in the silence that happens before everybody realizes it’s funny and starts to laugh. At that point, my equally ditzy stepdad turned to her and said, “Yeah, but there’s not even any PIE in that.”
