This weekend I went to a quilt retreat in Shipshewana, Indiana. It's a town that's famous for its Amish population and its good food, not the least of which is pie. Unfortunately, I was pie disappointed twice! At lunch on Saturday I ordered a piece of strawberry/rhubarb pie and got this horrible concoction with a half-inch of crumbs on top and the rhubarb encased in a thick custard on the bottom - it was inedible!
At dinner I thought I would be rescued with a piece of raspberry pie, but was served a slice of some kind of gook with two inches of pudding and about a quarter inch of raspberry smeared on the soggy bottom shell - again - inedible! I wanted to cry.
Where is a slice of good old-fashioned baked fruit pie? I'm not picky: peach, raspberry, apple, cherry - just about anything would do.
Of course I realize that I was probably over-reacting to this pie situation because my mother's death is still so raw and fresh on my mind. I feel helpless to change anything about that - and I take it out on the pie, knowing full well that, at least at lunch, I could have ordered a different slice and it would have been fine.
When I came home today, Tom and I went out to eat and it was so hard. Everywhere we went, the restaurants were full of people taking their mothers out to dinner for Mother's Day. Not only was I not able to do that for my mother, my own children were not available to do it for me.
I know I'm sounding sorry for myself, but there was no pie at that dinner either. Perhaps that would have changed everything, but on the other hand, there are some things not even pie can make right.
I have had my share of "pie disasters" as well. I stumbled across your blog because of the reference to Butterscotch pie which is a family favorite. My grandmother started making it in the early 1900s, and I have through trial and error (many many errors) finally been able to make it successfully. (The recipe itself with step by step instructions is on my blog if you want to give it a try.) Hang in there!
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