Sara shared a recipe in the Wilmington Forum. We thought it was well worth a share:
“Today I had the pleasure of attending the ‘Back Roads Stories’ event at the Broad Brook Community Center. I told a story about a blue ribbon pie, baked solo, by my then 9-year-old daughter, and its not-so-tragic demise at the fair. The pie was baked using her great-great-great-gramma’s recipe. I was asked if I would publish the recipe. So, here it is!
Filling:
5 -6 large apples washed, peeled, cut into maybe 3/4″ to 1″ chunks, not thin slices. We want this pie to brown and bubble without the apples turning to mush!
Mix together and set aside:
1 cup sugar, 1 tsp cinnamon, 1tsp nutmeg, 1 heaping Tbsp flour
Make the easy peasy double crust:
2 cups flour, 1 tsp salt, whisk together, 1/2+ cup oil, 1/4 cup milk
Mix lightly with fork then fingers. If too dry – add more oil, not milk. Don’t over mix. Roll out between layers of waxed paper and flip into pie plate.
“Now here’s Gramma Canfield’s best trick – spread half of the sugar mix into the bottom crust. Then pile in apples, sprinkle the rest over, dot with butter, add the top crust, pinch and cut vents. Bake at 425 for 15 minutes, reduce to 350 for about an hour or so, until it’s golden brown and bubbling.”
“Pie is my happy place. Sometimes I dream that we could achieve world peace if we could only bake enough pies. Who could not share love while sharing pie? The world could use a little extra love just now – in any way we are moved to give it.”
Posted in: Best of FPF
Ghost of Midnight is an online journal about fostering community within neighborhoods, with a special focus on Front Porch Forum (FPF). My wife, Valerie, and I founded FPF in 2006... read more
I love pie, as well. I feel that any two opposites sitting down over pie could bring world peace. But that’s me.
Several years ago, my wife and I went to a memorial service on Martha’s Vineyard for a friend of ours, who had died a few months earlier. John was nationally known in journalism circles, and he and I had become friends and spent time in Vermont, NYC, and in his home on Martha’s Vineyard, where he and his wife lived.
At the outdoor memorial service, under the big tent, people got up and spoke about John. Anecdotes I’d never heard before, stories I wish I had known while he was still living. At the conclusion, it was time to eat. The sheets were pulled from 50 feet of tables lined end to end that were loaded with pies of every conceivable type. If I had died myself at the end of the pie feast and gone to heaven or anywhere else, I would have died happy. Ends up, John was a pie freak. Who knew! And I was pissed that I never knew. But was delighted nonetheless.
Fast forward to last Spring. Totally unrelated event. Am browsing a huge craft fair and home tour in Inman Park, an historic Victorian Atlanta neighborhood. All the leafy streets are blocked off for this fabulous event. I come across a woman and her two daughters selling pie. The sign above their vendor tent said this: A Party Without Pie is Just a Meeting.
Same event, 30 minutes later. Dude wearing a t-shirt that says, “Equal Rights for All Does Not Mean Fewer Rights for You. It’s Not Pie.”
– Rob, Mad River Valley Forum