We Had Pie

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The Friday before Thanksgiving some of my husband's cousins came to make pie.
 And...we did make

Cranberry Pie

pie. We also made so much more.

There had been a long friendly argument between one of his cousins, and myself regarding making one's own pie crust. I felt that he needed to to try to make his own, and he felt he did not. SIlly man.

My good friend, Paula Hainey, of  Hoosier Mama fame, wrote a delightful cookbook on how to make pie. I purchased a copy for his birthday, I then enlisted her aid in my endeavor to encourage him to make his own pie crust. Hoping her message, MAKE YOUR OWN PIE CRUST, in big friendly letters. along with her autograph, might inspire him. IT DID NOT!

After various volleys back and forth, I invited him over to learn how to make pie crust. He is one of twelve children, ten boys, two girls, and as the news spread between them all, so did the interest of his siblings in joining us.

Hence, I had eight of these cousins coming along for the lesson. I always feel like the more the merrier.

I cleared all of the counters, made recipes of pie dough ahead, as I had only one food processor, with the idea of I would demonstrate one batch, allowing all of them to see how easy it was.  Then they could roll out pie dough from batches that had chilled the correct amount of time, this would make it possible for them to finish in the amount of time we had.

I had made several chicken pot pies, from recipes in Paula's book, for lunch planning we could eat while the pies baked. Then they would be able to take home a completed pie.

My daughter took off work to witness this event, my older daughter with her baby,  came over to join us for lunch, my spouse came home for lunch, after all they were his cousins. It was to be a full house. Just the way I like it.

The cast of cousins arrived in one minivan, Their exit from the vehicle was watched with glee from the front door. The anticipation of this day had loomed large for me. I had been harrassing this poor man for a long time. I had to make good on my assurances that this was going to be worth the trouble.

Yikes.

After everyone had donned their aprons, we moved into the kitchen, and first up was assembling the ingredients in the food processor, which I have had since I was married 40 years ago, promptly broke. Flushed with embarrassment, I called my daughter, who lives across the street, and asked if I could borrow her's amid good natured heckles from the cousins.

Salvation arrived quickly. Once more into the breach, we began. This time all went well. All were amazed with the speed the dough went together. They each got to see the various stages, and seemed like maybe this wasn't so hard. (or so I hope).

Rolling Pie Dough

Rolling out the premade dough came up up next. Flour was pretty contained considering the number, and limited space we were working in. Crimping edges, up next, all did very well.  Pie pans were prepared, filling was poured in,  pies were popped into the ovens, as I took the pot pies out for lunch.

This is when the really wonderful part of this day occurred. The sharing of life. Stories, some I had never heard previously, about my husband, the cousin's mother, my husband's aunt, and my husband's father, who were siblings.  All told amidst laughter, love, and the space to share it in.

Not too  much later,  the baking pies finished. We all tasted the test pie, pronounced it good, just like the day spent together.


As these eight cousins carried their pies out to the minivan for the return trip home, I felt a little choked up.  I have known these people for over forty years, and that day, making pie dough  was a moment in time which made so much more than pie.


As I grow older, I realize these are the magic moments that fall into our laps and may never happen again, so they must be hugged as close possible. For It makes a community that is built of; shared love, lives, and time.