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It is time to dwell on the important place that pie holds in our imagination and in our stomachs as fall rolls along and Thanksgiving nears. Growing up in Connecticut we rarely had pie as a dessert. My family usually veered heavily into frosted cakes and deep bowls of ice cream.

My mother did make pie occasionally for a special dinner: Thanksgiving or Christmas usually. When she made pie, I would know initially by the emergence of the pound of white pork lard that appeared on the counter in its unmistakable graceless, block form. Peeling apples for pies used to be drudgery, but one Christmas the apple peeling-coring gadget appeared and there was a stiff competition to see who could control it the longest. My mom had to hide it up high eventually, or she would come home to a large mound of curly peels on the counter and no apples left in the fruit bowel.

My mom’s pie crust was very good. She made it in the same way that her mother had and her mother’s mother before her: flour, lard, and 3 Tablespoons of freezing cold water. Now these ladies had all made pies weekly, all year. They were pie crust experts. A few flips of the wrist, a brisk rolling out of the dough and WahLah! It came out of the oven flakey, tender and a perfect foil for the gooey, sugary, fruit interior. I tried their recipe. Not once, not twice, but every year. What did I produce? Iron piecrusts- virtually inedible plates of armor. “Lighten up.”, they said.

"You are working it too much!" I know. I know. But I couldn’t help myself. I love pie. I wanted to be the next generation pie-maker, but it didn’t look good.

Years passed, twenty to be exact. Then I met Wanda. Somewhere in our days of wandering together around the County when I needed to get the baby to sleep, I confessed my failure as a pie maker. She said, Oh you can make a pie. All you need is my no-fail piecrust recipe. I don’t know who originally invented it, but boy- they weren’t kidding. I followed her recipe and even though for the life of me, I couldn’t get the hang of the rolling pin and ended up just patting the dough into the pie dish, it turned out delicate, flaky, and tasty. Since that time I am not afraid. My skill with the rolling pin has improved greatly and although sometimes I measure more accurately than others, I find the pie crust is forgiving.

Our son this year has been taking up the cry, “Mom it’s time to bake pie.” I will teach him how to make the pie crust before he goes to college. He can carry the pie crust torch to the next generation. While I now know how to make pie crust, Tony has educated me on what to put into it. In the past I have made typical pies: apple, pecan, and when lucky- fresh peach pie. Last month was Tony’s birthday. He wanted pie, not cake. I asked him, "What kind of pie?" He said, "Cherry, rhubarb, apple pie." I exclaimed, "3 pies?" "No," he replied, "All of that in one pie."

It was his birthday wish, so with great misgivings I made the pie. It was darn good. So my last comment is, "Don’t forget to experiment with the filling."  You might be happily surprised.

Ideas:

• Chicken, corn, potato pie
• Taco beef pie
• Shredded pork pie
• Peach blueberry pie – This is a good one!
• Mushroom, swiss cheese, and spinach quiche- Just had guests over for dinner and invented this one. It went over well.
• Apple and cheddar cheese pie

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