Pie.

 

Yeah, I know it September. But I’m still going to blog about 4th of July.

Everyone’s got a “thing.” My thing is pie. I love pie. I love pie in all its glorious forms: from sweet to meat. (not together.) I love funny shirts about pie. I have a “I <3 Pie” shirt, I’m wearing a shirt that says “Easy as 3.141592 . . .” and shoot, I have a tattoo of a slice of chocolate pie on my foot.

A lot of what I connect to my mother and grandmother (2 of my all-time most favorite people) revolves around pie.  My grandmother baked the most amazing delicious pies, which she passed on to my mother. I have developed a complex of sorts . . . I don’t bake pies because I know they just won’t be the same. I baked one pie with my mom (apple), a few years ago which was pretty awesome, but I didn’t want to press my luck. But I decided I needed to get over myself and bake a pie for 4th of July.  I found a great berry pie recipe and decided to go for it.

My tools:

• Silpat
• Pie plate
• Grandma’s rolling pin
• cider for liquid confidence

 

I made a crust! Todd was impressed.

 

The pre-baked pie.  Guess what? Lattice work is TOUGH.  So I faked it, broke the strips, used a cookie cutter to make stars and cover up the breaks. Go . . . . creativity!

 

Its me! And a pie!

 

My finished pie. I forgot to adjust the recipe to add my secret ingredient: love. My pie spilleth over.

It was awesome, I really loved it.  But when you’re living in a home where everyone is watching watching what they eat, the pie actually takes a while to finish off.