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So what did I do? Cried, wailed, pouted -- then regained my senses and searched desperately for a flat tool in which to lift the cooked egg from the floor. I was stumped: I own no flat cookie sheets (yet!), and I couldn't find a flat piece of cardboard.
As usual, my hubby (my "knight in shining amour"), sailed through the front door and took charge. He simply separated a spring form pan from its base and used the metal bottom to flip the quiche back over.
Then we did what any home cook who'd put a lot of effort into a new dish did: WE ATE IT! (It's okay, we extended the "five second rule" that many parents and college students use.) HA!
I wonder how many pie mishaps I'll face in pastry class?
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