I love to bake, but I don't really bake pies. Once a year I'll do pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving and I love it, but I'm hesitant enough about it that I stay away the rest of the year. Today, however, I found myself with a TON of blueberries that were going to spoil if I didn't use them...so I made a pie. With TWO crusts (top & bottom), something I don't have to do with pumpkin pies. So it was a double effort, double win. As I pulled it out of the oven, I felt like my mother. Triple win. (Not that she bakes pies either but she's amazing and seemed to bake a lot when I was a kid so when I bake something I usually think of her). It was beautifully golden brown, piping hot steam was wafting through the vents I cut in the top, and the solid weight of it made my mouth start to water, just knowing that heaviness came from fruity, juicy, blueberry goodness.
You remember that scene from Cast Away where Tom Hanks' character works & works & works & finally sees a spark of flame that he builds into an enormous fire:
"Fire! I. Make. Fire!" he says, as he beats his chest in a way that can only be described as manly. As I pulled my blueberry pie out of the oven, I felt the triumph that only comes from creating something.
"Pie! I. Make. Pie!" I shouted to no one in particular. My kids don't even bat an eye anymore. They've learned to ignore their crazy mother.
(by the way, I used THIS recipe, if you're interested...easy as pie)