When my childhood best friend Jeni got married ten years ago, my mom and I threw her a shower in our house. I still remember the menu. Probably because I wrote it down in my Dinner Diary but also because it was so perfect if I do say so myself! There was a baked goods and pastry spread, a smoked salmon and bagels station, and my mom and I each baked a quiche — one vegetarian and one classic ham and gruyere. I hadn’t ever made one before and couldn’t believe how simple it was (totally back-pocket-worthy). The only problem I had was with the frozen pie crust I bought. It came in one of those ugly aluminum pie plates so I attempted to transfer it to a prettier, more shower-appropriate one…and ended up cracking the dough. So I smushed the crust into a ball, spread it out again with a rolling pin, and placed it in my nice dish. Later, when Jeni’s mom (who also happens to be Rosa, one of my kitchen heroes) was deciding which quiche to eat, she pointed to mine and said “You know that one is going to be better because the crust is homemade.” I laughed a little uneasily — but because she was one of my kitchen heroes, and because I was secretly proud that my crust did indeed look all artisanal and rustic, I didn’t confess to my crime. And I’m embarrassed to admit that in the decade since, I have become a repeat offender.