I thought this was going to be a crumble!

I don't know what I was thinking when I decided to make peach cobbler this week.  Well, I do know.  I was thinking that the picture looked so pretty in the cookbook, and since the pretty picture is right next to the mac and cheese recipe I've made so often in the past few months, I've been looking at that picture quite often.

I was also thinking one other thing.  Crumble topping.  I was thinking peach cobbler had a crumble topping.  I realize now that my recipe does not guide one to create a crumble topping but a full blown, roll it out, flour on the counter crust.

I have spent a lot of time in my life avoiding a homemade crust.  I just figured it was hard, and no reason when the pre made crusts taste pretty good.  But this cook book, this cook book that I've come to love and trust and covet... she foiled me.  FOILED.  

We started out with flour and salt, then added the shortening and butter.  Sounds like a crumble topping so far.  But the weird thing was that she wanted me to do this in a food processor.  I said, "Okay, cook book, I trust you." And I used a food processor.  

Read closely, because this is where she got me.  I emptied the "crumble" mixture into a different bowl, certain that the next step would be "set aside to sprinkle on top of peaches."  But instead, it read something like, "add water, one tablespoon at a time, until dough begins to form."  

Dough?  But I have a pre made dough in the freezer.  Why would you make me do all this work?  Don't you love me and want me to be happy?  Don't you want me to enjoy your cobbler?  But I was half way there, so I persisted to hand smash my lumpy dough out on the counter until I finally had a crust to put on the bottom of the pan.  

At this point, my kitchen, she was covered in white splashes of flour, and so was I.  It was everywhere.  But I persisted to mix the peaches (I should mention here that a little rhubarb accidently got into the peach cobbler.  I have no idea how it happened.) and the sugar and pour them into the pan.

And even though I didn't think I would have enough "dough" to cover the top, I did.  Well, there are still a few holes here and there and it is not a pretty crust with little cut outs or anything, but it's on there.

And the cobbler is in the oven, The kitchen is wiped down and clean, The cook book is back on the shelf, Preston is outside cooking burgers, Cooper is wandering around trying to find food on the floor and I'm on the couch, exhausted yet hopeful that peaches mix well with rhubarb.

Fifteen minutes later, I accidently drink a glass of wine.

And fifteen minutes after that, I try my cobbler, patches of white dough on top and watery peaches inside rather than slightly brown crust and gooey goodness.  

Even though the rhubarb is maybe the only thing I got right, It still quenches my sweet tooth.  It's just not that pretty.  Next time, I'm making a crumble.