Yesterday’s post about The Dainty Pastry had me thinking about pastry all day today. I’ve got a real problem with the sweets- as I can never pass them up. Maybe it stems from my dad who always used to say, “there are only two kinds of pie I like: hot and cold!” Maybe it stems from my mother, the best pie maker I’ve ever known—which would explain my dad’s sentiment.
One thing I remember about Mom and her pies is how she’d always have a little bit of her flakly homemade crust left over. She’d spread it out on a little glass dish and sprinke cinnamon and sugar on top. Into the oven it went with the fruit pie (cherry was always my favorite) and we’d stand by, watching and waiting, watching and waiting. It was like a pre-dessert to the real dessert that we’d just have to wait for! I’m sure there were times when I had to share, but the times when I had the whole little cinnamony and sugary crust all to myself were the best. Mom, me, the smell of pie and a touch of love that I can still taste to this day.