It's been kind of time of deep and serious introspection for me lately and...
...quit laughing. I can so be all deep and serious. I just try not to be too much cuz it usually makes me run my mascara or something.
And the reason I've been all thinkful lately is because...gulp...my oldest daughter is turning 30 on Saturday.
I can't even start the whole "I remember when her little head was covered in beautiful golden peach fuzz and her little rosebud mouth"...
Can't go there.
Must maintain some semblance of control. Must! Must! Must just say that she was just the sweetest little thing and I remember this time....
Stop! Must maintain control.
What the heck was this post about anyway?
Oh yea. Piecrusts.
When I was a young married girl filled with idealism and hope I felt confident that I could actually make piecrust. My Mother had never really made GREAT piecrust but for some reason I felt certain that it would be a snap for me.
After all I could cook and bake like nobodies business and I was really good at it.
But piecrusts became the bane of my existence and I became famous, or perhaps a better word is avoided, for my cardboard crusts. Until I went to a piecrust class.
It wasn't a real class like in a school or anything.
But one of my friends had a friend, Debby, who could really make piecrust. After years of begging the friend of the friend agreed to teach a piecrust class to six of us.
One of the group had a huge kitchen in this amazing 1802 restored Western Reserve farmhouse. We gathered there in her history steeped home to make our own piecrust history.
The piecrust teacher lady person was really serious.
I was a little afraid of her because, to be honest, my track record with teachers of arbitrary subjects hasn't always been ... ummm.... the best.
My nervousness increased when she took out a piece of paper for each of us with printing on it and said we needed to read it and sign it before she would start teaching the class.
It was a little contract that said we would never divulge the piecrust recipe even under torture. OK, I just threw the "under torture" in there to be funny but the rest of it is true.
I'm not sure what the threat was if we actually did divulge it but I was too afraid of her to even ask.
So the piecrust class started.
And it lasted for several hours.
And I learned to make great piecrusts. Flaky, amazing, look-of-wonder-on-peoples-faces piecrust.
And because of that I got to be "that lady!" The one who was asked to bring pies to every event. The one who modestly said "oh, it's nothing, please have another piece" and who firmly, firmly refused to ever give the secret recipe because somehow I felt the pie police might be watching me.
But over Thanksgiving I wasn't feeling so hot and my stepdaughter was visiting and offered to make the pies.
Make the pies!!!!???????
You're talking sacred ground here, stepdaughter. Back off!
She's sweet and lovely and all but invading my piecrust territory! Come on!
AND I couldn't share my recipe with her because after all a promise is a promise!
So I looked in several cookbooks which all had the same recipe!
In my Chickberry Patch cookbook I found the "secret" recipe. Yup. There it was printed out for all the world to see so I told her to use that recipe.
And she did.
And the pies turned out wonderfully. Almost as good as mine. Grrrr...OK, as good as mine... man, that hurt just to write that in black and white for public consumption.
And because it is written down in somebody elses cookbook I can share the recipe with you!
OK, so the reason that I'm telling you this strange story is not to share "the secret" piecrust recipe with you but to explain while I've been all serious and deep in my posts down memory lane of late.
It's because my daughter is turning 30.
And she wants me to make her a cherry pie for her birthday. Which makes me remember the time when she was little and...
Can't go there.
Must maintain some semblance of control. Must! Must!
And now I need to sign off right now cuz I think I got something in my eye.
Of course I'm not crying.
Crying? Me? Silly you! You can actually find my picture in the dictionary next to the word self-control.
Jimi's No Fail Pie Crust (see, it's not Debby's recipe so I'm not breaking any promises - so there!)
3 cups flour
1 1/3 cup shortening
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 beaten egg
5 T. cold water
1 T. apple cider vinegar
Mix the flour and the salt together. Cut the shortening in. Stir the egg and vinegar into the very cold water and gently toss the liquid into the flour. I live where it is super dry and sometimes I have to add a bit more water. Form into a flat disc and refrigerate for several hours. This will make double crust.
And if you liked this recipe I know you will want to visit this post for another great one to try!