Thanks, but no thanks, Williams-Sonoma …

Dear Williams-Sonoma,

Hey, thanks for the e-mail thanking me for my “interest,” but I am not, in fact, interested in your Whoopie Pie Pans. At least, not “interested” in the way that would lead me ever to buy one.

My thesaurus points to “concern” as a synonym for “interest,” and maybe that’s closer, though I suppose my concerns about the Whoopie Pie Pan doesn’t really rise to that level. “Horror,” too, is a bit strong, as is “revulsion,” “disgust,” and even “aversion.”

“Puzzlement,” maybe. “Bemusement,” certainly. Basically, I had to look at your catalog’s entry for Whoopie Pie Pans because four generations of my family have been making these tasty treats for close to a century without benefit of such a device; I had to see what we’d been missing.

And to be honest, I don’t think we were missing much. It appears that the Whoopie Pie Pan is like a shallow cupcake pan. I suppose that it would make a dozen perfectly uniform whoopie pie lids, and in some kitchens that might be important. But my cupcake pan also makes muffins, and has even made miniature pot pies, whereas the Whoopie Pie Pan appears to make just whoopie pie lids, which is somewhat limiting. In my small kitchen, things need either to do one crucial task, or many important tasks, to earn their keep, and this fails on both accounts.

Uniformity of whoopie pie lids has never been a big problem for me. My whoopie pie lids come out generally round, but sometimes eliptical, and the sizes vary within a reasonable range. Part of the fun of assembling whoopie pies is trying to match lids; the fit doesn’t have to be perfect, especially if you’re generous with the filling–I’ll overlook a lot of mismatching if ample Marshmallow Fluff comes along with the oddness. The reviews on your page suggest that this isn’t a sentiment shared by all; and that’s fine: different strokes, man.

I suppose that what does trouble me, though, is that I’m getting this e-mail after I ordered some (probably over-priced but certainly cool) Star Wars pancake molds. The boys were dead set against Star Wars in all its variations until this Halloween, when they suddenly discovered Darth Vader and Obi Wan Kenobi; you can only imagine how much this pained me, since I turned eight the year the first Star Wars movie came out and it was a life-changing event. (I say this as if you already know this about me, but since you knew that I looked at the Whoopie Pie Pan, I assume you’ve ascertained quite a few things about me already through your nefarious data mining.) They’ve also been dead set against pancakes until just a week ago, when they had chocolate chip pancakes at a friend’s house–apparently pancakes with things in them are acceptable. So what better way to celebrate this sudden broadening of their worlds than chocolate chip pancakes shaped like Darth Vader and Yoda?

Anyway. I didn’t ask you to keep an eye on what else I viewed on your catalog site, nor did you ask me if it was OK, but I’m a web developer myself so I know how these things work. And if it really concerned me, I know how to block your prying eyes; if it really, REALLY concerned me, I would have bought the pancake molds in a store with cash while wearing Groucho Marx glasses. Which would have been cheaper after shipping, even with the added cost of Groucho Marx glasses.

But it is just a tiny bit creepy. I sure wasn’t expecting that e-mail.

So, good luck with your uniformly-shaped whoopie pie lids from your Whoopie Pie Pan. I’m going to stick with my ungreased cookie sheet, just like Great-Aunt Edna, and my oddly-shaped and variously-sized cookies. Sort of Charlie Brown Christmas tree cookies, if we’re going to get seasonal about it. Because Charlie Brown taught us that things made with love (and Crisco) are perfect just the way they are.

yours,
Michael

PS: I’m not sure what recipe you’re using for your whoopie pies; there are a bunch of variations on this treat that has made its way from the Amish to Northern New England and now apparently to bistros in Manhattan and London. In the spirit of the holidays, I’ll offer up mine, a long-kept family secret that has served us well over the years.