Yesterday—3-14—was pie day, and we went to to visit our friends Judy and Paul to celebrate this happy day. Now, I like cake as much as the next person, but given a choice between a good piece of cake and an equally good piece of pie, I would choose pie every time. In short, I am a huge fan of pie.
Judy made a blueberry pie, and oh my, does she have a good hand with the crust. Judy makes such good pies that if she invites you over for pie, then do not hesitate. Go.
Judy’s grandmother taught her to label pies with an initial, for example “B” for blueberry. I think this is an excellent idea. That way, if you bring your pie to an event, there is no confusion as to what kind of pie it is.
For me, when it comes to pie, the crème de la crème is the edge, where there is just a smear of fruit or berry. I save that part for last, just as I save the tail for last when I am eating lobster. The edge of Judy’s pie was everything it should be—flaky, brown, and so satisfying.
On the way home, Clif said, “Her crust is as good as yours.”
This is high praise coming from my Yankee husband, a compliment for both Judy and me.