One Pie To Rule Them All

I'm cooking again. Yesterday this blueberry pie was produced from our kitchen. I had been discussing the topic of blueberry pie earlier in the week with the husband, because I had never made one. My apprehension about blueberry came from both my perception of it as sickeningly sweet, even unctuous, and as a sort of Pu-235 of pies, radiating a deep blue tincture, staining everything that comes within its orbit a permanent, regal purple, including but not limited to teeth. Caleb's principle objection was the cost of blueberries, overcome when his uncle presented us gratis with a large box of said berries. So - pie.

Two of my nieces came over for the pie-making, and while Eileen and Helen cheerfully participated in the rolling of the crust and the gentle folding of the lemon zest into the berries, my own kids industriously watched a Power Rangers video (Ike) and replaced the batteries in the toy light saber (Oscar). The girls were splendid. They embodied all of my early-motherhood fantasies in which my kids would calmly but enthusiastically help with every cooking project, adding an ingredient here and there and listening with rapt attention while I pedantically share my knowledge of cooking factoids both obscure (use vodka to moisten your pie crust!) and painfully obvious (the more you handle the dough, the dirtier it will get!). We even rolled out the extra crust dough and made cinnamon-sugar cookies. And then I smacked them all around a bit and lit up a Vantage Light.

Photo credit: fabulous husband Caleb.