Pie Crust Capers

When I put my mind to accomplishing a task, I am generally successful. I tend to be a perfectionist, an organizer and someone who will study a topic until I can master it. There has been one looming exception in my life – baking pies.

This pie baking defective gene that I posses is long standing. A ten year 4-H member I baked my way to the State Fair on numerous occasions. I was awarded Grand Champion ribbons for homemade yeast breads, tea rings, cookies, and other delectable morsels. One miserable failure emerged – pie baking.

I attempted different pie crust recipes – many of them guaranteed to be “fail proof” – maybe for some people! They might have been fail proof until my floury hands experimented with them. The standing joke about my pies from my husband was we called all of my pies “spoon pies”. Now don’t confuse my “spoon pies” with “Moon Pies” – that would be a travesty to make such a comparison.

My “spoon pies” were labeled such because most often, my crusts would basically disintegrate and we would scoop out the filling and meringue and remnants of soggy bottom crusts into a cup and eat them with a spoon.

The 4-H failures did not compare to my pie crust caper as a young bride. Shortly after we were married (many moons ago), we invited my in-laws to our home for dinner. I was a fairly young, but confident cook, and was not overly intimidated about cooking dinner for my new mother-in-law, until my father-in-law’s request for dessert was given to me – chocolate pie – homemade chocolate pie with meringue to be precise.

Shock surged through every culinary cell of my body. Given the zillions of dessert options, why did he have to ask for pie? I will never forget the day of the dinner date with doom. I awoke, eager and confident, that I was going to bake my best pie ever for my in-laws. (Why I thought this with my track record of flake-less failures, is still beyond reason!) Ingredients were gathered. My rolling pin was floured. Crust after crust, I blended, mixed, rolled, and attempted to construct a pie. And time and time again, they failed. That day I baked nine miserably disastrous pies in an attempt to serve my father-in-law’s request for dessert. The trash can filled to overflowing with meringue and crusts unfit for man or beast.

The in-laws arrived and dinner was served. It was a culinary delight that could earn me NEXT FOOD NETWORK STAR status in this era. Yet, true confessions had to be made as the meal concluded and the time for dessert arrived. The trash can was heavy with discarded pies. Yet our hearts were light with laughter as I confessed to all of my pie failures. I did receive an “A” for effort and my mother-in-law still laughs nearly 27 years later about my pie baking attempt. Since that dinner, no one has ever asked me to bake them a pie.

Nevertheless, I am on a mission. A fellow leukemia patient (Sally) has assured me her pie crust is delicious and the recipe is relatively fail proof. As soon as I complete these treatments, I am going to revisit pie baking. I believe I can still overcome the flawed pie baking gene. You can teach an old dog new tricks, correct?