It measures up
Saturday March 31st 2012, 11:37 pm
Filed under: Family,Food,Wildlife

A little leftover pie crust just sitting there.

A big bag of frozen berries.

A memory triggered. Of the intense comfort food that it was when I was given a single-person berry pie in a restaurant in Federal Way, Washington when I was far from my home, my husband, and my young kids.

When I was growing up, my mother often made homemade pies, a way to get more fruit into her kids and baked I’m sure with memories of her grandmother, who had a pie shelf built right into her kitchen: it was just expected that one would have pies on hand for whoever might show up on a random day, especially if there were young men to meet who might be courting one’s daughter. One could greet them most sweetly.

We picked fruit at pick-your-own farms, most often Catoctin Mountain Orchards in western Maryland. And so, strawberry pies, peach, berries, pear and lime, grape pistachio, it was always the best dinner ever when there was pie coming afterwards.

Then came the day I was in the Seattle area for my niece’s wedding and my brother, parents and I found ourselves with some time on our own and stumbled across that restaurant.

It was a great deal of mixed berries with just enough crust to hold them, not too sweet, just right, the way such things should be but that I had never seen from a commercial establishment before.  As close to mine or my Mom’s as it could have been.  It was so good that we went back and bought more to have for breakfast before our flights home.

A ten inch mixed berry pie just came out of the oven. Biggest pie tin I could find.

But the only thing that fit that leftover crust was a stainless steel 8 oz measuring cup, designed with a handle curving down at the end to steady the thing from flipping over as you fill it. Works on an oven rack too.

Its interior is now bubbly and cinnamony and just sweet enough and it is just right.

And on another note. This afternoon, Richard turned and exclaimed and got me to look up in time to see the second half as the female Cooper’s hawk (ie the bigger one) did a complete figure-8 around the two support poles to the awning and away.  “So fast. SO fast!” he told me. I so love our front-row seats!

6 Comments so far
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Me, oh, my.
I love pie!

Comment by twinsetellen 04.01.12 @ 6:40 am

I’m just not a fan of pies. My father was; a two-crust apple was his favorite and I made them often. (For deeper, bigger, look at the stoneware pie plates.)

Comment by Channon 04.01.12 @ 6:54 am

from time to time when we make a quiche for breakfast, the DH will take the little piece of left over crust, sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar and make me a little “crispie” — just like my grandmother used to do — yummy — but how can you go wrong with pie crust — shortening, flour, salt and water (or lard when I was a child)

Comment by Bev 04.01.12 @ 7:52 am

Wish you were here. Bring pie.

Comment by Sherry in Idaho 04.01.12 @ 8:10 am

You keep waving food at us!
BTW, Cliff lived in Federal Way for a while.

Comment by Don Meyer 04.01.12 @ 10:23 am

Love a good berry pie. Thanks for dessert in internet mode.

Comment by Ruth 04.01.12 @ 9:11 pm

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