“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
What better way to deal with multiple upcoming tests and assignments than to take up a whole day baking? That’s right, nothing. Throughout this entire ordeal, I had a steaming cup of hibiscus tea at my side to calm my poor nerves (please say that in Pride & Prejudice’s Mrs. Bennett’s voice; it makes it 10x better).
At my church, we set aside each 5th Sunday morning to have dinner. All the elderly and not so elderly get to show off their southern cooking skills, and the church men get to pile their plates high and ignore their diets. It’s a time of fellowship and glorious gluttony (even though that’s a sin…oops!). Well this Sunday was slightly different; as Thanksgiving quickly approaches, my church decided to go ahead and have our Thanksgiving harvest dinner as our current 5th Sunday. That means instead of the usual roasts, cornbread, and chicken spaghetti, the dining halls tables are littered with cornbread dressings, green bean casseroles, and sweet potato pies (sigh). Can you hear the carbs singing to you like mythological sirens? (Because I sure can!)
In my introduction page, I mentioned that I have a passion for cooking. And I do; baking in particular. I’m always finding new things to try out and my loving family usually ends up being my willing guinea pigs. Well, ever since I would a young teacup human, I’ve wanted to master the allusive lattice pie crust. Every child has seen pictures of this crust whether it be in your mother’s cookbooks or on some television show. It’s perfect from its wicker-basket-looking middle to it’s perfectly crimped edges. I’ve sat down time and time again to conquer this crusty project, but I never seemed to have the drive to finish it through. Well, the Saturday before our Thanksgiving harvest dinner at church, I decided to do just that. I buried the counter tops in flour and rolled out my handy-dandy crust (I prefer Ree Drummond’s pie crust recipe), and I delicately cut it in to strips like I was being held at gunpoint. If you had peeked into the kitchen that day, you would have thought I was performing brain surgery; that was my level of concentration. At one point, Ben (my stepdad) threw a dishrag at me to break my focus, and he got rewarded with a not-so-gentle hit from my rolling-pin. After several agonizing hours of work (it was probably 45 minutes actually), I whipped up my home-made apple pie filling and proceeded to complete my first lattice-top pie crust. (I’m pretty sure tears were shed at some point.) With the pie assembled and in the oven, I got the glorious task of cleaning up my mess, and if you’ve ever made pie crust, you know it’s a hell of a mess indeed. Honestly, after succeeding in my task, I didn’t mind clawing flour out of every single crevice of the kitchen counter.
With my pie latticed up and baked, I walked into the fellowship hall the next day beaming with pride. (I know pride cometh before a fall, but I was darn excited) I attempted not to brag, but I really couldn’t help it. Shortly afterward, the feast began and my pie was butchered by some elderly woman with a heavy knife hand. My beautiful, intricate pie crust’s life had come to an end, but it was so worth it. You might like to know the pie actually tasted good, but that wasn’t the point. I went home with an empty pie plate, several compliments, and a heart light with accomplishment.
Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good!