Humble Pie

I grew up in a small farming community in the mid-west. Interestingly, I do not have a single memory of any woman in my family ever baking a pie. I am sure I had some highly qualified pie bakers in my extended family, but not my mother, aunts, sisters, or grandmothers.

In high school, I used to jokingly tell my mom, “Woman, go bake me a pie!” She would almost always respond with “Go bake your own damn pie!”

Looking back, baking pies represented everything that I did not want in my life. At that time, it represented being a woman in the kitchen, living a southern lifestyle. The stigma of baking pies was strong and negative for me as a kid, although I am not sure where I got that perspective.

Baking pies was the antithesis of how my parents raised me. I remember being in the fourth grade the first time my dad asked me where I wanted to go to graduate school. Fourth Grade. I left home at 18 and went to college, with big plans for my life. Throughout the next few years, I became fluent in a second language and lived in three foreign countries. I moved across the U.S. and started grad school at 22. By age 25, I had visited 25 countries. I felt very accomplished and far from my small town. I never felt the urge to bake a pie.

After grad school, my husband and I received a gift certificate from Williams-Sonoma as a wedding present. My husband bought a rolling pin. I remember blankly staring at him while thinking, “What in the hell are you going to do with that?” He said we needed it in case we wanted to bake. I remember rolling my eyes and thinking that was never going to happen.

As newlyweds, we quit our jobs in Denver and moved to a small mountain town. We bought our first house, which was on a dirt road even though it was within city limits. I found my priorities shifting drastically and quickly. I was no longer looking for international flights; I could not even get a direct flight anywhere but Denver.

​One Saturday, my husband was out of town and I woke up very early. I dusted off a New York Times cookbook that we had received as a wedding present (and never opened) and looked up a pie recipe. Before 8 a.m., I had made coffee and my first pie.

Pictured: Not one of my first pies.

I was baking at 7,000 feet in elevation, which presents plenty of difficulties for experienced bakers. My New York Times recipe book clearly did not make any adjustments for high altitude baking. My first few (20?) pies were pretty lackluster. I struggled with rolling the dough to create an even crust, which means we ate a lot of lumpy pies.

Through trial and error (and a lot of ugly pies), I discovered that I really like a lattice crust. It looks more impressive, even when it is not done well. I have made a lot of uneven, cracked lattice pies. In an effort to hide my inconsistent crust, I went through a stage where I twisted the lattice to make it look more even. It did not look any better and was actually pretty unappealing.

I still struggle with the edges of the pie crust. I leave a little extra crust to fold over the lattice and then crease it. Sometimes this works beautifully and sometimes it is a disaster and I want to throw it into the garbage.

Although I am baking pies often, I am obviously still learning.

I have been thinking about why I started baking pies in the first place. A part of me thinks I probably missed my small town. Or maybe I was just really bored? Regardless of why I started, the significance of baking pies has become clear. Baking a pie is a labor of love. I always bake a pie for someone else – my husband, dinner guests, a friend that is having a hard time. For me, baking pies is an expression of caring for someone and wanting them to have a better day. How can you receive a fresh, homemade pie  and not smile?

I am now well into my 30s and have not been back to my old small town in almost a decade. But, I have a new small town in the Rocky Mountains and I bake my own damn pies.

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This is my current go-to pie crust, courtesy of Food 52:
https://food52.com/recipes/78548-stand-mixer-pie-dough

Stand-Up Mixer Pie Crust

1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter, refrigerated until right before you use it
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon of sugar
1 teaspoon of salt
1/2 cup of very cold water
​

1. Chop the butter into pieces about ½ inch thick. Place the butter in the freezer when you prep the rest of the recipe.
2. Combine the flour, sugar, and salt in the stand-up mixer with the paddle attachment.
3. Add the pieces of butter and mix for 5-10 seconds.
4. With the mixer on low, pour the cold water in very slowly. (The ½ cup of very cold water is necessary at higher altitude. Use less water at sea level, more water the higher you are in elevation)
5. Mix until the dough is shaggy that holds together when squeezed.
6. Turn off the mixer, form the dough into a ball, and wrap it in plastic wrap.
7. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour. You can freeze it too (this actually turned out better for me).