Anybody can make a perfect pie. But I like repairing ones that are not. A holdover from my earlier life as a family therapist, I suppose. Give me a pie whose baker’s humanity hangs out any day. I’ll take the messy kitchen, the day’s reading materials abandoned on the couch, the wet socks drying on the floor before the fire.
Give me the lived-in life.
Speaking of which, a couple days ago, I was interviewed for a magazine story (more on that later), and so I thought I’d make a pie to be photographed (instead of me!). It’s a winter article, so I figured I’d make a pie from frozen fruits I had collected from my yard/garden this summer. Black and red raspberries and rhubarb.