I am now a pie lover

Written by jamie on August 17th, 2014

After returning from our Niagara vacation, I was looking for a good book to lose myself in. Drew and I took a trip to the library, and I leisurely browsed through my favorite section: biography and memoir. I ran across this book.

It’s a beautiful story of a widow, struggling to make sense of her grief and find a new purpose for her life. Beth finds purpose through the love of others, a bit of traveling, and a lot of pie. She shares how pie has played a crucial part of her life, especially after she quit a high paying job to work as a minimum wage pie baker. Baking pies kept her grounded throughout her life, and she finds that pie helps her work through her grief. I loved the book for her brutal honesty, her gut wrenching tears, and her refusal to give up.

The entire time I read, my stomach growled. In each and every chapter, Beth describes homemade pie in great detail, down to the buttery, flaky crust, and juicy, bubbly center. And even though Beth loves to bake pies for others, she loves to teach others to bake more. There is power in people baking their own pie.

Before I had even finished reading the book, I went to the store and bought ingredients for apple pie. After reading about the comfort she found in being wrist deep in flour and butter, I decided I needed some culinary therapy myself.

I am truly a pie novice, but I didn’t let it stop me from giving it my all. I remembered too late that I didn’t have a pie pan (I am a disgrace of a baker) so I improvised using a Pyrex pan. I was determined to do it all from scratch. I wanted to find that peace and grounding from working the dough with my hands. I spent thirty minutes peeling and cutting Granny Smith apples. I relished in the smell of the cinnamon and sugar.

My crust was pitiful. I think I manhandled the dough, something Beth urges readers not to do. It kept cracking as I tried to roll it. Rather than get frustrated, I kept going. I knew that even if it looked like crap, it would probably taste like heaven.

I meant to take more pictures of the process, but I forgot. I got lost in the softness of the flour on my hands, and the sweet smells that filled the kitchen. I did get a couple shots before the pie went in the oven.

There was something soothing about making a mess on my kitchen counter.

And I was right; even though ugly, it was delicious.

I even made a smaller pie, using the crust scraps and some leftover cherry pie filling we had in the fridge.

But when we sampled both pies, I was unimpressed with the cherry pie. The canned cherry pie filing was too sweet, too fake tasting. Compared to the homemade apple pie, well, there was just no comparison.

I loved the process so much that I couldn’t wait to make another pie. So, this weekend, I did. A berry pie. Using a real pie pan this time.