OK. *sigh* It’s time to tell the truth about yesterday’s chocolate cheese pie. It really did smell good and look good–even for a cold pie. I said that I would wait, but alas, I lied. Here’s the evidence:

This was the slice I ate last night. I just couldn’t wait. It did indeed taste “like melted chocolate ice cream” as the recipe promised. But really, look at it. Shameful. That’s what you get when you just can’t be patient.

Now you know you can think of a time when you just should’ve waited. I’m impatient, and sometimes I get in trouble when I just won’t wait for things to turn out the way they should. Like this:

They both tasted good, but the second one was just more beautiful to behold. Sometimes, getting your way will be all right, but waiting it out and doing things right will really be what’s satisfying. It was true for this pie.

All right, at this point, I would encourage you to get a snack or a drink. It was a wild night at the pie lady’s house…

tri·fect·a/trīˈfektə/

The crust got made and I filled it with some yummy lemon filling. TOTALLY guessed at the amount of lemon juice I put in that thing. Reminder: too lazy to squeeze lemons.  And another thing, there was a “beaten egg whites” step whereby you made some meringue-like stuff (church lady cookbook does not explain this AT ALL) and put it on top of the pie. Well, I started whippin’ up those two egg whites. I whipped and whipped. And whipped. But, no. Apparently, one SHARD of yolk was in there or something, because it looked like this:   It may be hard for you to tell from the photo, but verily I say unto you, “This substance is not meant for the top of a pie or anything else anyone wants to eat.”

Enter whipped cream. I just put the rest of the whipped cream I had in the  fridge on top of that Lemon Ice Box Pie. I mean, so what? Whipped cream comes from an ice box, right? So here’s the finished “pie.”  Not attractive. I’m hoping for that situation where ugly stuff tastes good. One of those pies a food critic might call “homey” or “rustic.” A pie with a “nice personality.” Pie number one got done.

 Onward and upward. The next contestant in our pie-fecta was Peachberry Pie. Or maybe Blue-peachy? Bleachy? Yuck. Peachberry it is. So I STILL had blueberries from that GIANT frozen bag>
DANGIT< SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED THAT MADE MY CAPS LOCK STUCK ON>OH WELL< I GUESS IF IT”S WORTH SAYING< IT”S WORTH SHOUTING?

Whew, it fixed itself. Blueberries, canned peach slices, sugar, and flour went into the shell. Then I attempted to use this cool top crust cutter with trees in it. Well…the fruit looked beautiful in the uncooked shell, but you’ll see how it worked out in the end.

 I know good and well that this is probably not “raw oatmeal,” but it IS cinnamon roll flavor, and we had two whole packs left. VOILA! So I just dumped it in. I held my breath and crossed my fingers and hoped that it would indeed be “good.” That church lady probably would’ve put my name on the prayer list by now, for sure. Oh well, I have found that church ladies often need something to do…might as well be prayin’ for me. Keeps them out of trouble.

It smelled terrific. We’ll see tomorrow how it tastes. Here’s what my kitchen looked like after THREE pies:

Bowls and measuring spoons everywhere. But it sure was fun. While I waited for pies to cook, I cleaned up and had this gourmet dinner:

Note the name of the wine. I thought it was perfect for a more-than-slightly-twisted baker like myself. It made the wait quite pleasant, I must say.

Notice the Peachberry Pie. I tell ya, no matter what you put with blueberries, they are such stage hogs. My daughter said I should name it a moat pie instead, because of the moat of blueberry juice that seeped out around the edge. Here’s one more shot–the finished Good Pie:

I sure hope it is. I’m taking all the pies I’ve got over to the church tomorrow. I want my preschool buddies to have a Tuesday treat, and the office staff could do with some pie as well. I hope to taste a slice or two myself.

Today I made three cheese pies. Two of them were a variation on yesterday’s cheese pie. I needed to take something to a church breakfast, so I made the cheese pie and added BACON. Bacon makes everything better. The other change I made was cooking them a bit longer. I really liked how the brown toasty cheese tasted on top.

They really weren’t as dark looking as the picture makes them seem . They were a success, though, and only a small sliver of each was left when I went to get my pie plates.

Late this afternoon, I made one more pie. It was called Chocolate Cheese Pie and was from yet another church lady cookbook.

The cheese was cream cheese, and this time, I let it soften to room temperature, which worked great. What didn’t work great was the bowl with the egg whites. They just didn’t “make stiff peaks,” and I’m pretty sure I know why–I didn’t wash my beaters in between bowls. If you get anything in there with those egg whites, you can kiss your stiff peaks good-bye, sucka.

A bowl that did go well was the one with heavy whipping cream. It behaved perfectly–stiff peaks and all. All three bowls got folded together (and really there was one more container from the microwave with melted chocolate chips–modern day double boiler) to make a tasty chocolate pudding looking stuff. Then I dumped it all into a graham cracker crust.

It was supposed to be a chocolate graham cracker crust, but I didn’t have one, so….too bad. Or too good. We’ll see. Anyway, here’s the pie in the crust:

It’s supposed to sit overnight in the fridge, and that’s where it is. I’ll let you know how it tastes.

All this egg-whipping brought to mind this question:

When we spill a bit of raw egg on the counter, we disinfect frantically to avoid germs or salmonella or whatever; however, I just whipped up some raw eggs with chocolate for dessert. How does this not make me sick? I’m sure there’s a simple answer–plenty of pies and other stuff are made with raw eggs.

OK. Short and sweet tonight. Busy week ahead and the pie-maker’s gonna stare absent-mindedly into the television. Good night!

Oh, by the way, today’s pies brought the count up to 30 pies! 18 days to go!

Eunice is the name of, I’m sure, a very sweet lady who submitted a recipe for Cheese Pie. Here it is–from one of those nice church-lady cookbooks I’ve mentioned before:

Now, at first glance, I thought, crackers, cheese, butter…how could that not be delicious? 

Take a look at this recipe and see if you have any questions about it. After I read through it a second time I said out loud, “Ummmmm…..OK,” and then, “Gimme a break, Eunice!” I didn’t include her last name, because I’m sure she’s great and all, and I’ll bet her pie tastes really good because SHE knows how to make it.

But really, Eunice? “Premium” crackers? Ya mean Ritz? Keebler? Square or Round? What size package?

What kind of cheese? Cheddar? Swiss? American? Gouda? Camembert?

Oh, and Eunice, what’s the oven temperature? 350? 400? 279?

And “until egg is set” will surely leave me with my oven light on and my nose pressed against the glass…*rolls eyes*.

The whole reason that we made this pie (me, my daughter, and her friend, Katie) was that they had a cheese pie joke from few years ago that has lasted throughout their friendship. They’re best buds, and I’m thankful my kid has found such a great girl to hang around with!

So here’s how it went down. It was around 9:30 in the morning and just as soon as I rounded up the girls to make the pie, gathered some ingredients, and began to preheat the oven, I realized that we were out of milk. Woops. So I texted my in-laws to see if they had milk. They did, but it was fat-free organic. I told them that no one would know the difference–just put it in some other container and I’d send the girls up to get it.

10 minutes later, the girls walk back in with the milk (unmarked container) and we start working on crackers. The picture above shows the brand we used and what we guesstimated as “3/4 pkg.  Premium crackers.” Katie crushed them up in a bag.

Ruthie  mixed in all the other stuff–the cheese we chose was cheddar–and dumped it all into a pie plate.

 We forgot the butter entirely. It seems like it didn’t matter so much–I think it might’ve browned it a bit more, but also may have made it too mushy.

It baked at 350 degrees for about 40 minutes (that equals “until egg is set.” We just guessed, and we waited for the edges to be brown a bit. That was a good call, and next time, I’d probably let it cook even a bit longer, because the brown part was the tastiest, in my opinion.

We all agreed that it was tasty. We also agreed that adding bacon might make it even better. As a matter of fact, I’m going to make a couple of these to take to a church breakfast tomorrow.

So, Eunice, thanks for the great idea. Maybe you just wanted to teach folks to be resourceful. Who knows? But we liked your cheese pie, and it was fun cooking with the two coolest girls in town!

I’m not sure how many of you know what blind baking is. It’s when you fill a pie shell with foil and dry beans (or some kind of weights) and pre-bake the crust. It’s important for the crust to be weighed down so that it doesn’t puff up in the middle. I’ve used this technique a few times and now have my own container in the pantry marked “pie beans.” I’ve read of one baker who has been using the same dry beans for the last seven or eight years.

But that’s not what today’s post is about.

I had an appointment with the eye doctor today. It was actually scheduled for mid-November, but they had a cancellation, so I decided to go ahead and knock it off my to-do list. I had been for a walk, so they had to take me in my skanky workout clothes. Oh well, maybe everyone in there doesn’t have perfect vision…

After my appointment (by the way, my eyes are in great shape–haven’t changed a bit since my last appointment in 2005–maybe I’m not that old), they gave me those snazzy black shades, since my eyes were dilated. It was a good thing, too, because I already felt dizzy and weird, and it is a gorgeous, sunny day here. I made it home and had lunch with my husband. I knew I wanted to bake a pie today, and I couldn’t wait too long. We’ve got my son’s school carnival at 5:00, and my daughter has art class at 4:30. I knew I should get on with it–only one problem. Blind as a bat.

OK, well maybe not a bat. But if you’ve ever had your eyes dilated, you know that there is NO recipe reading going on for at least an hour or so. And even then, it’s kinda blurry. So I decided to just do without the recipe. Gulp.

I asked myself some daily pie questions:

1. What ingredients do I have/need?

2. Who is the pie for? Who needs a little pie-joy today?

3. Which pie plate–throw away or glass?

4. What makes baking this pie different from all the other pies?

5. Will I get to taste it?

Here are the answers to today’s questions:

1. I have some more blueberries (frozen ones work great in pies) and 3 large apples–I think they’re Fuji apples, but alas, I could not read the tiny sticker.

2. This pie is for Ann (maybe she’ll share with her hubby). She’s a blog-follower, a theatre enthusiast (and great director, by the way), and she just got a new job–cause for pie-joy celebration, for sure!

3. I’m sending Ann a glass plate because it works a little better for fruit pies. She only lives a couple of miles away, so I can get it back eventually.

4. What makes this pie different from all of the pies so far is that I was all blurry-eyed while baking it, and I did not consult a recipe. Thankfully, I suffered no injury. I did have to keep closing my eyes because they had that floating-around-in-your-skull feeling. I sort of remembered from my fruit pie chart that I needed around 3 TBSP of flour and about a cup of sugar, so I hope that worked. Before I began baking pies, I rarely opened a cookbook. I just wasn’t that sort of person–or so I thought. Anyway, thus was born the Appleberry Delight.

5. Not sure if I’ll get to taste it, but that’s ok. In the last 24 hours, I confess that I have had no less than THREE pieces of that pineapple coconut pie–with whipped cream, of course. So no need to share, Ann. Just let me know how it turns out. You might wanna pick up some vanilla ice cream on the way home from work. Just sayin’.

I made my second attempt at a lattice top. Those blueberries went wacky trying to get out of that shell, and could someone please tell me how to crimp one of these things? I’m gonna look that up.

Obviously, since the blog’s all done for today, my eyeballs have made a comeback. I’m thankful for that and thankful for this place:

It’s where the most special people in my life eat their pies–morning and evening. I’m 20 days into the pie-making, and I’ve made 26 pies counting today’s pies. I’m having so much fun sharing pies with others, but there’s nothing like sharing them with my family! So far, sooooooooo good.

Isn’t this pie pretty? It’s the Chocolate Chip Pecan Pie I just delivered it to my son’s elementary school for the Fall Carnival tomorrow evening. Funny story, actually. I was having a power-mom morning:

I had already helped out with a youth prayer breakfast, walked two miles at the park, baked two pies, washed the bath mats, and had homemade veggie soup for lunch.  I scheduled two doctor’s appointments and planned to get emissions testing on my car. I was even clean and decently dressed.

I was headed to school in a hurry to drop of the pie and some Cokes for the carnival. For a few minutes, in my mind, I was “THAT MOM.” You know the one. Has it all together with a bow on top…

As I hurried to get out of my van–holding the pecan chocolate chip pie seen here–my flipflop went all wonky and busted ALL over the place. Somehow, I did not fall, but I’d pay cash for a video of myself. My knee sort of “kissed” the pavement as I held the pie high like some sort of food sacrifice. I struggled not to curse and practically pulled a muscle in my neck trying to see if anyone had watched my bizarre offering to the Pie gods.

I limped into the school–my mouth full of humble pie–and reported to the office. Here’s the great thing. Those office ladies have got it goin’ on. They quickly produced packing tape, something like pliers, and some scissors and proceeded to help me repair my flipflop. I’m here to tell you that they are seriously underpaid. So the pie made it, and “NOT THAT MOM” headed back to the car, grateful that things turned out OK.

Here’s the second pie I made today–a repeat of the Coconut Pineapple Pie. My sweet husband more than hinted that he would like to try it, and we gave the last one away, so I made him another one. Of course, I “safety tested” it first–you know, for his protection. I’m pleased to say that nothing bad happened when I ate it. As a matter of fact, it was really delicious. Not too coconutty–just the right balance between the coconut and the pineapple. I do think that the first one probably turned out a bit firmer because it was in a shallower dish, but I repeat: I did not suffer.

I guess I’m just a lucky guy
And I’m prepared to tell you why
It’s strictly on account of my
Sweet Potato Pie

This version’s by James Taylor and some friends. I’m not sure who originally did the song, but it’s a cool song.

Hey! I had no idea that there was a song called Sweet Potato Pie! That’s what I created this morning beginning at the following time:

It began last night when my sweet daughter shared that she had told her math teacher about the pie-making and had asked her about her favorite kind. Ms. Allen replied that it was sweet potato, which probably would have added her to my pie list anyway BUT, it turns out that her birthday is TODAY! Happy Birthday!

Side note: I’m always a little apprehensive when I know I’m baking someone’s FAVORITE kind of pie. Seems like somehow I’m competing with their Aunt Nancy’s famous recipe or some pie at an awesome restaurant. Then I say to myself, “When have I EVER left a bunch of pie on a plate?” So I just don’t worry about it.

I headed out to buy a few sweet potatoes–they do come in a can, but this time I decided to follow the recipe and use fresh ones. I do like sweet potatoes, especially with marshmallows and nuts and tons of sugar, but I haven’t bought any in a long time. For something that’s supposed to be such a perfect food, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to file it under “Nice Personality” in the Beauty Pageant of Stuff That Grows in the Dirt (BPOSTGIND). Those suckers are ugly. No big deal. We all know that what’s inside is most important.

I baked the potatoes last night–it took about an hour–because I knew I wouldn’t have time in the morning. I also set out lots of ingredients, since I knew I would be getting an early start. I’m not sure if I’ve shared this information before, but I used to think that cooks on TV used all those little prep bowls just to be fancy show-offs.  While that may have some truth, I think the real reason is this: They do not want to burn their arm hairs off, chop their fingers up in the food processor, get clothing caught in the mixer, etc. And they especially do not want to SCREW UP THE FOOD. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the kitchen over the last couple of weeks it’s to read the recipe twice (at least) and BE PREPARED.

So today at the pre-crack of dawn I dumped those taters into my food processor (skins removed, of course) and that machine did it’s squish-stuff-up magic. I liked this recipe (from my PIE cookbook, which I highly recommend if you ever want to make pies) because you mix the whole thing in the food processor bowl.   Everything was poured into the shell and headed into the oven by 6:15 a.m. Yawn.  I would’ve been up anyway, because our youngest has to be on the bus by 6:40 each day.

It smelled so good while it was baking that my daughter declared, “They should make a sweet potato pie candle!” I thought it looked pretty good, but something annoying did happen in the oven.

The cookie sheet that I put under the pie (you really just have to do that for really liquidy pies–especially in give-away pie tins) BUCKLED in the oven–I heard it. I know this can happen with some metals. My sister’s suggestion was to invest in heavy-duty steel sheets which do not move in the heat. I just might, because even though the pie looked all right and did not leak out of its shell, it wasn’t as level as I’d like.

The pie had an hour to cool on the rack before we needed to leave for school. I covered it in plastic wrap, and my daughter wrote a nice birthday note for her teacher. We added a fork and knife–when it’s your birthday, you reserve the right to just dig into a pie right when you want to. We delivered the pie to Ms. Allen, and she was very gracious about it. I cautioned her to wait at least an hour before she ate it so that the pie would come out of the pan OK. She said that she would and said some nice things about our sweet kid. Love that sweet kid! Then it was time for me to go home, as I had exceeded the amount of minutes a middle schooler’s mom can be at school without it getting weird, apparently.

Whether Ms. Allen likes the pie or not–I sure hope she does–I hope she’ll know that she’s appreciated by us and by our kid. Teaching math is important, but teaching advanced math to middle schoolers–well, that just deserves extra recognition. Thank you, Ms. Allen, for having a positive impact on our child. You are making a difference each day!

22 days to go ’till the big four oh. 3 weeks and 1 day. 540 hours. 32, 411 minutes. Whatcha gonna do with your next 32, 411 minutes? Just curious.

Before I tell about today’s pie, I wanted to relay some information from my friend, Julia, who is a Presbyterian. She said that she asked her mom about yesterday’s Presbyterian Pie, and her mom said that it used to be that the Baptists never wanted to put any bourbon or rum in their desserts, but the Presbyterians had no problem with it. Now, I believe this. Like I said, I grew up Baptist. BUT, I know that my Mom put liquor in all kinds of sweets. That’s why they tasted so good. I remember waiting in the car for her to go in and get the yummy liqueur that she put in her cakes–it really did help them to be even more moist and flavorful. Plus, raise your hand if you’ve enjoyed rum cake, bourbon balls, or fruitcake that was made fabulous by liquor. The interesting thing was that Steve’s Presbyterian Pie didn’t have any in it. Oh well, next time!

Anyhoo, my family loves raspberries. Last time I went to the store, I bought two 6 oz. containers of fresh ones. I don’t know what I was thinking, because that’s nowhere NEAR enough to fill up a pie. But those 12 ounces cost $7.00, and man, I am cheap, so that’s probably why I wasn’t thinking straight.

This morning, when I got those raspberries out of the fridge, I knew I was going to have to be creative. At first I considered small pies (pot pie-sized), but then I remembered how much I like to see a slice of pie. I figured it was just be a heap of gooey red stuff. So, I checked to see what else I had handy that I could toss in there. Here’s what I had:So I peeled them , chopped them up, and dumped them in that pie. I added a bit more sugar and flour. I use a chart in my Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook that helps determine how much sugar and flour to add to different fruits. I admit that this time I was sorta guess-timating. I know, I know….sloppy baking. I hope it turns out.

All right: Reader’s Poll. Who likes pears? And if you do, do you like them hard or soft? My husband and I are divided on this issue. I like a pear to be crunchy like a crisp apple. He, on the other hand, likes to slide it along his teeth and let the juice go everywhere. I know this means the pear is ripe, but to me, it’s just plain mushy. Thoughts?

These pears were in-between crunchy and mushy, which was good for slicing them up. Here’s the pie before it went into the oven.  I brushed it with some butter and added a little flower decoration.I think the crimping looks pretty decent–only a few lumpy spots.

The baked version looked OK–one tiny bit of raspberry snuck out near the edge. No big deal.Nothing a little vanilla ice cream can’t cure.

I’m hoping my husband and I will be tasting this pie after lunch today. Gotta let it cool for a couple of hours.

Interesting information: When searching online poetry resources such as whatryhmeswith.com , I learned that even though some words rhyme with part of raspberry, only one is a true rhyme. Asbury. Look that one up. You won’t believe it–it’s super METHODIST. Good grief. Who knew that raspberries were Methodist?

I learned something else about raspberries today. Did you know there was a band in the 70’s called the Raspberries? I’m kind of embarrassed that I haven’t heard of them, being born in 1971 and all. In case you haven’t either, here’s a link to a song by them.

OK, so today’s pie song has been sung. My countdown app says I have 23 days to go until I turn 40. This is getting to be really interesting. I might just have to put off my birthday for a while…hmmmm…

Today, I was interested in making a one-crust pie, because I had enough homemade dough in the fridge for just one crust. I had some pecans, too, and I like to use those when they’re fresh, so I decided on a pecan pie. I found this recipe in a church cookbook:Now, I must admit, I am very curious about what makes this a Presbyterian Pecan Pie. The sweetness, the simplicity? Any Presbyterians out there, help me out! I’m a Methodist now, and I grew up Baptist, so I wish I had some of those pies to compare this one to. 🙂

Now, here’s what you line the crust with–pecans and chocolate chips. I know the chocolate chips weren’t in the recipe, but doesn’t chocolate make everything taste better? Woops, probably just made the pie Methodist. Sorry, Steve! I’ll tell you what, it smelled practically Pentecostal when it was baking…Hallelujah!

Anyway, you poor the mixed filling over the nuts and chips. I have to say, adding those chips cost me a tiny bit of filling, I think. That crust was FULL! So full, in fact, that I chose to bake it on a pizza pan–those give away pie pans tend to “give way” anyway.

It baked for close to an hour. I was grateful for this; someone in my house burned popcorn last night, and I was glad for the sweet smell of pie again. Here’s the finished product, all toasty brown and yummy-looking. Won’t get to taste this one, though. It’s going to some fine people I know from our church. Diane works in the church nursery and volunteers in the office. Lowery has been on the finance team and the trustees and a bunch of other stuff that deserves thanking. Their daughter, Lauren, has helped out a ton at the church, too. Besides, they’re just good people. I know one day they’ll probably have jewels in their crowns, but since I’m not in charge of that, I’ll send pie! Thanks, fine family, for all that you do. Your service does not go unnoticed! Hope you enjoy the pie–whatever denomination it is…

Here’s a great image drawn by my favorite American artist, Mary Engelbreit. I’ve got a little collection of her artwork, magazines, and other cute stuff. I love the everyday “regularness” of her work. The people look like people we might know–doing things we might do. To me, she is sort of a modern-day female Norman Rockwell. Besides, I love her colorful patterns and the meaningful sayings that she finds to accompany her artwork. This one really rings true. Sure, they’re eating pie, but it’s clear that it doesn’t matter at all what’s on the plates. There’s nothing like spending time with the ones we love.

I got to do just that today with my son, Max. Indeed, he was “on the chair,” because otherwise he’s too short to help me bake anything.Today’s pie was a repeat performance–a Reese’s Peanut Butter Pie. Max requested this one just for him, and actually, he didn’t know that I’d already made one. One cool thing about this photo is that you can see our new mixer. It’s a Black & Decker, and it came with a case and everything! It works great, and those beaters came out right when we asked them to. Max had fun mixing up all that peanut butter, cream cheese, sugar and whipped cream. He also had fun licking the spatula when we were done.

I think his favorite job, though, was unwrapping all those peanut butter cups. He practiced amazing restraint by not eating a single one and saving them all for the pie. We chopped them up and put some between the layers of filling and the rest on top.

It didn’t take us too long to make the pie, but we both enjoyed it, and we’re looking forward to having a big slice after supper.

I’m kind of a freak in the kitchen. It’s hard for me to share the space, because I’m a control freak. I admit it. My family is fully aware of this fact. But I was glad to share today. Maybe Max will be able to remember us baking together when he grows up. Hope so.

I remember my Mom being in the kitchen A LOT growing up at 1818 Leslie Lane, and it was a small kitchen for anyone feeding seven people on a daily basis. My favorite thing in that kitchen was the wooden table and benches that my Dad made. It fit all seven of us somehow, and it was really sturdy. Dad made that table when he quit smoking so that he would have something else to do with his hands. I remember being almost small enough to walk under it when he was building it.He never though much of it (Sadly, Dad never realized what a great craftsman and artist he really was–but we all knew), but my Mom loved it, and she insisted on having it in her new house when they moved some years ago. It’s there today, and it serves as the kids table at holiday gatherings.

Because of the small kitchen, Mom prepared some stuff–especially cakes or stuff that took up lots of space–in the dining room. I have a vivid memory of watching her create candy bats out of some black melty candy substance. She would pipe it onto wax paper in the shape of bats. After it cooled/dried, it would peel off and look so cool. I don’t remember how old I was, but it must’ve been near Halloween. I’ll refrain from any “batty” comments here. 🙂

I also remember Mom making what seemed like hundreds of tiny sugar daisies on that dining room table to place on my wedding cake. Now, I have to tell a story here–if you came to our wedding, you’ll just have to forgive me. It has to be done. On the day of our wedding–best day ever, by the way–my Mom was working very hard to attach all of those beautiful daisies to my wedding cake. It was the hottest day of the year, but for some reason, the windows were open. I don’t know if there had been smoke from something or what, but they were open. Mom was carefully placing each daisy with a sharp knife when, suddenly, a swarm of gnats flew in. I’m not kidding. There was swatting and shooing and all manner of unpleasant words flying about. When the dust (and icing) settled, there were a few unfortunate gnats that had landed on the cake. Mom sighed and carefully began to extract them from the cake. My Dad, who was always a little more concerned about stuff like that, said in an exasperated voice, “You CAN’T serve that cake now!” Mom turned toward him–real slow-like, and with eyes that you would only recognize if you’d ever seen them from the choir loft when you were talking or playing in church, held up that knife to my Dad and said these two words, “WATCH ME.”

Man, she was sweaty and kinda scary–looking. So he let out one small huff and beat it out of there. Probably wise at that point. Turns out the cake was wonderful (They all were–Mom made all five of our wedding cakes), and the day was great, so as far as I know, nobody ate gnats. If you’re grossed out, sorry, but life is what it is, isn’t it?

I have another picture to share. I forgot to include the finished Chocolate Cherry Pie photo. I really liked how it turned out and I may have to make this one again so that I can have a taste.

By the way, did I mention how grateful I am to have a self-cleaning oven? I set it the other night (after lemon chess pie) and it takes four hours to clean, but when it’s done–amazing! It’s like that sticky blueberry stuff was never there! So when I cooked the next pie, no fire! Thank goodness. Don’t think for one minute that I take that oven for granted.

All righty, then. 25 days to go. Happy Sunday to all you pie-eaters out there.

Well then, I don’t really know how long it takes a cat to wink an eye, but Billy would probably have to wait a bit longer than that around here for his cherry pie. Besides, today’s pie is not for anyone named Billy. Sorry, Billy!

I decided to make two kinds of cherry pie today: traditional cherry with a lattice top crust and then a chocolate cherry pie–a new recipe I found on the web. When I searched for it, I was thinking fondly of chocolate covered cherries. My Dad loved those, and I do too. I remember my mom buying lots of boxes of those for our teachers at Christmas time. They were not expensive–maybe 85 cents a box–but boy, were they delicious.

Anyway, I made two batches(4 crusts worth) of homemade crust this morning in my food processor. Still seemed to work! I pre-baked one crust for the chocolate cherry pie, and I simply filled another for the cherry pie. The lattice top was something I’d never tried before, and it wasn’t too difficult at all.

I don’t own a pastry wheel, so I just made do with a pizza cutter. I did have to say out loud, “Over, under, over, under, over….” to make the weavy part work. It wasn’t perfect, but it looked pretty cool, I thought.

Now, the chocolate cherry pie is a chilled pie. I pre-baked the crust and let it cool. The filling is made of sweetened condensed milk, chocolate chips, a bit of salt, and cherry pie filling. All of that gets all melty in a saucepan, and then you just poor it into the pie shell. The recipe calls for 2-3 hours of cooling. Just enough time for a good Saturday afternoon nap… Before I lay down, though, I took the other cherry pie out of the oven. I love how this one looks! At the last minute, I brushed some butter on top and sprinkled on some sugar. I like the way this helped it to brown and to be a bit sparkly after it baked. 

Today’s pie recipients are the Turner family. I met these great people through the preschool where I worked. They’ve got five beautiful kids–4 boys and a girl. Being the youngest of five kids myself, I have a huge appreciation for large families–the love, the fun, the togetherness and…the WORK. Let me take this opportunity to say, “Thanks, Mom!” for all that you did to keep us all fed and clothed, doing homework, going to church, and just plain “actin’ right.”  It takes a lot of work to teach people to wash their hands, write thank-you notes, be quiet in quiet-type places, brush your teeth, say your prayers, keep your hands to yourself, say please and thank you, and for heaven’s sake, wear a slip if your dress is see-through! (Side note: some people did not learn this, I’m afraid, from their Mamas or anywhere else)

Anyway, the Turners are some fine folks, and I happen to know that at least one person over there likes cherry pie. The Dad of the family is getting home today from a camping trip with his boys that they call the “Be a Man” camping trip. Considering that most of the “men” involved were 6 years old or younger, I know one man that’ll be happy to eat supper, eat pie, and sleep in his own bed. And I know one mama that’ll be happy to have all her people under the same roof again.

So, thank you, wonderful Turner parents, for all that you do to raise your little ones right. May God bless your family richly in the days and years to come!