My oldest at the age of 14 has decided that she really likes to cook. It’s been great! This week she called me at work and asked “what’s Gram’s Pie?”
“Why?” I ask.
“Well, I just found this recipe card and it says gram’s pie.”
“Oh – that is your great grandma’s pie recipe.”
“Your grandma?”
“No, your dad’s. Why?”
“Can I make it?”
Now I am thinking Grandma Sandage, the legendary pie maker who no one dares to make a pie since she died because it always brings on these irritating comparison sprees, where the pie is analyzed from all possible directions and never ends up being as good as grandma’s, so that the “how is it?” question is always met with “it tastes OK, but . . . “
“What kind of pie do you want to make?” I say.
“well there are all those peaches downstairs that need to be used.”
I had forgotten about those and thought she was going to suggest using canned fruit which never really turns out that good, so I am surprised again. and then I think, Why not let her try?
“OK, go for it.”
“Really?” she is in shock.
“Yeah, just don’t make a mess.” I imagined the house covered in flour and mashed up peaches.
She paused and then asked. “Will you pick up some ice cream on your way home?”
How could I say no to that?
When I got home, the house was not a wreck as I imagined, but instead, there was a beautiful pie sitting on the oven. WOW! the edges of the crust were a bit dark, but I had forgotten to tell her to put foil over the edges of the crust while it was baking. The crust was flaky and the filling was divine.
The next day she made two, using up the rest of the peaches and she picked some apples off of the tree in the back yard for the second pie. This time she used foil on the edges of the crust.
“Your going to make me really fat,” I say as I bite into a piece of hot peach pie.
The legand lives on . . .
