In case you’ve not noticed, I write about pie. A lot. I mean, really, who doesn’t like pie? And I would never say that in a snarky, mean-spirited kind of way – that’s some serious blasphemy.
Pie can be showy and extravagant, but that’s not usually how it is. Most of the time, pie is friendly, homey and unpretentious while still being worldly and well-read. Making pie is one of the nicest ways to become well acquainted with local fruits, produce and meats wherever you happen to live.
You see, warm and welcoming to everyone both savory and sweet, pie is more than simply delicious. In all honesty, Pie is the kind of person I’m trying to be when I grow up. Wouldn’t the world be nicer if we all aspired to be like Pie?
Without a doubt, pastry crust is one of the tricks a thrifty Locavorian kitchen depends upon. Like soup, pie is a broad category perfect for turning leftovers into something fresh and new. Tamar Adler in her thoughtfully delightful book “An Everlasting Meal” sums pie up perfectly:
“…tarts did not come into being because pastry needed to be filled, but because ingredients needed somewhere to go. Even if the wizardry of flour and water frightens you, as it does me, it is undeniable that once you have a crust, any filling becomes a meal. This makes tarts too useful to be permanently scared of…”
Maybe because I’m not smart enough to be intimidated by flour, fat and rolling pins, and I have lots of lovingly raised ingredients in need of a place to go, I’ve never feared the challenge of pie. Which is not to say I haven’t had my share of struggles and lessons learned the hard way.
Can you tell I’m about to meander down a pie-filled ramble? But not to worry, I’m not going spew all my pie thinking on you in one painful post – I’ll lay it on you gently, one forkful at a time.