Last weekend I took some pie to Annie, in Winona. She’s been studying hard for tests and I thought some pie would help her to relax. After all, pie is a comfort food. Last night she sent me a text that read, “I just ate my piece of pie out front while looking at the bluffs. It was quite nice.” Her comment made me feel really good and inspired me. Usually when I make a pie for Melissa and myself, we will share it with others so that we don’t eat the whole thing. You see, pie is good for the soul, not so good for the waist line. I like the smiles a pie will bring when I give them to others. People are always happy to see you when you show up at their door with pie. To share pie, is to share friendship. I enjoy making pies, but lately weve been so busy working on the house, I just haven’t taken the time. That all changed when I walked into Hy Vee yesterday, seeing a large display of fresh blue berries in the produce isle. The sign read, “Sale, 2 pints for only $4.” I was tempted, but thought I should focus on the house project. Then I noticed another sign, ten cents off each gallon of gas on my fuel saver card with the purchase of two pints. If I buy 20 gallons of gas, that saves me an additional $2 on a fill up. I could resist no more. I placed eight pints in my cart. I paid for my blue berries, feeling pretty smitten with myself over finding this bargain, and left. When I got to the car, I put the berries in the back seat and then returned to the store to get milk and the other items I had forgotten once distracted by the blue berry sale. At home I made two pies. I set them on the counter to cool before returning to my regularly scheduled tasks for the day. When evening came, I was off to deliver the pies. I had a few people in mind that I thought might enjoy a slice of pie this evening. Often, Melissa and I will share our pie with Father Patrick at St. Patrick’s Church. It’s the perfect amount of pie for three people. I told Melissa, “We always take our slices from the pie pan, and then take the rest to him. He probably feels like we’re always giving him the left overs, so tonight I want to take the whole pie to give him his slices first.” That was my plan. This is what I would do. With my pies in the front seat, I drove to the church rectory where Fr. Patrick, greeted me at the front door. I told him of my thoughts about giving him the first slices from the pie. He smiled, and then led me to the kitchen where he offered a variety of utensils asking which I would like to use. I chose the triangular pie server. The pie looked very good through the clear plastic top of the container. As I removed the cover, the aroma of fresh baked blue berries filled the air. The crust was light and flaky; the lattice top was beautiful; it was almost too pretty to eat. I was especially proud of this pie, and happy to share it with a good friend. I cut the pie, carefully placing four slices on a plate to leave with Father Patrick. I gather the blue berries that remained in the middle of the pan, scooped them up and added them to his share. I put the rest of the pie back in the container, snapping the lid securely back into place, before we walked to the front door. Outside on his front porch, Father and I enjoyed some pleasant conversation for several minutes in the cool evening air. We agreed the weather was exceptionally nice for August, in Iowa. I was holding our half of the pie in the thin, light weight container. As we talked I noticed the aluminum pan would easily spin inside the smooth plastic carrier. The weight of the half pie would turn the pan constantly so the pie was settled to the lowest spot. Basic physics, right? As I shifted my feet I watched as the pie made another turn, spinning to the front of the container furthest away from me…and the thin plastic lid popped loose. The pie tried to fly out, but with a quick move of my hands, I lifted the front edge of the container, sending the load back toward me…a little too far. The pie was now trying to escape through the back, but I quickly shifted it again toward the front…a little too far. The clear plastic lid was tossed away to the side. The pie was gaining momentum, having its way with me. I felt I was losing the battle. As I tilted it back again the pie rode even higher in the pan, as I juggled and struggled to save my pie, I gave it one more adjustment, sending it back to the front of the pan…a little too far. This time I launched the half pie; it was air borne. Any circus acrobatic performer would have been impressed by the pies smooth movement through the air, ascending upward as it turned to the right 180 degrees, before descending. Now with its lattice top facing the ground, the pie plummeted to the sidewalk. The impact on the concrete was so great; the flaky crust stood no chance of holding the pie together. It exploded, sending shards of lattice top in all directions, spewing blue berries about. The aluminum foil pan bent as it crashed to the ground. It wobbled a few inches past the pie crash site before coming to a complete rest upside down. Staring at the disaster before us, Father Patrick and I silently looked at one another, horrified, in disbelief. I busted up laughing. What else could I do? Turning the pan upright, I began gathering the broken pieces of crust and scooping the delicious filling back into the damaged pan. Father was still standing there, nearly in shock at what we had just witnessed. “You’re not going to eat that are you?” He asked. “Sure,” I said, “Five second rule. We’ll just call it cobbler instead of pie.” I continued cleaning the mess. I asked Father for a bucket of water to rinse the sidewalk. He said not to worry about it, but, I insisted. If youve ever seen a blue berry pie splattered about a walk, it’s not pretty. He said “It looks like the birds were there after eating mulberries.” I said it looked like someone got sick. Father went to get the water. I cleaned the mess, but there is a purple stain on the walk in front of his door. When I got home and told Melissa what had happened. First, we had a good laugh. Then, she made me throw the broken desert away. “I’ll put it outside for the birds and the raccoons.” I said. I just hate to waste pie. “Throw it away!” She said a bit more sternly. I threw it away. If I would have stayed home earlier in the day to work on the house, none of this would have happened. But then, Father Patrick and I would have missed out on some really good laughs, and, memories made over the incident. Besides, the blue berries were on sale, two pints for $4 so it was cheap entertainment…and I’ll be saving $8 on my next tank of gas. All in all, it was a very good day, but life is always better - when there is pie involved.
Posted on: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 18:23:41 +0000
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