Friday, June 15, 2012
A Pie a day keeps the doctor away
I have always had a love affair with pie making and baking. It started when I was small. My grandmother made pies like all good women back then did...on a daily basis. She could whip a pie together with about as much effort as it took her to open her favorite novel. My father loved pies. Before we were married and I was in dreamy land about the reality of my days at home, I planned on making a pie every morning. My days were going to go so smoothly that making a pie each morning would require as much effort as eating breakfast. I love my red pie dish. Before we were married, I spent time each summer on the east coast with my aunt and uncle. This was my first encounter with strawberry pie. To top it off, my aunt used this cherry red pie dish. I was enamored by it. Right after we were married, I was home visiting my mother and noticed this red dish in her cupboard. My aunt had given it to her. I flipped out. My sweet mother handed me the pie dish with hopes that I would fill it often for John. He loves pie more than I do. He remarked last week after coming home from work to find an apple pie waiting for him, "NOW, that's a fun way to come home from work." I love the way the dish is worn. I love that it is cracked on one side. I love the burn marks underneath. I think if it breaks I will gorilla glue it back together with duct tape and cement. I love it.