(It was dairy-free, but she’d brushed the top with butter, for good measure.) I decided I’d love to be a human as forgiving as a good piecrust.Īs we wound our way back through the state last night, more or less oblivious to the holiday after celebrating it, once again, at the Chesaw Rodeo, my friend’s nicely tanned little tart kept peeking back into my thoughts. I clearly don’t remember the particulars (to be honest, I didn’t taste it because I got distracted carving up a pig), except that the crust was made with eggs and olive oil, and that she said she picked the crust recipe – which browned extremely evenly – because it advertised complete forgiveness. Inside, she’d tucked sautéed greens and onions, and there was something about raisins as well. It was made in a tart pan, but it had both a top and bottom crust. One woman brought a savory tart unlike any I’d ever tried. It’s essentially a potluck that lasts 3 days, so instead of bringing, say, some pork, one might bring an entire pig. Last weekend, we trekked out to Curlew, WA for our (now) yearly weekend of fun and adventure. It’s a good thing, then, that pie is infinitely flexible. So while the rest of the country sits idly by, smug in their relationship to cherry pie (and by extension with their identity as Americans), I twiddle my fresh-picked cherry stems in my hands, and go pieless. Unless you use real tart pie cherries, which are both more difficult to find and priced more astronomically, the balance between sweet and tart just isn’t there. There’s just no snap to them, first of all in a crust, if you want that good gooey fruit gel, the fruit, by nature, sags a little. The pop of hot blackberries makes me swoon, but warm cherries always seem too meek to be pleasurable. If the logic followed, I would also dislike blueberry and blackberry pies, but neither is the case. I do like pie itself, and I adore cherries, but hot cherries encased in crust defy the concept of summer, because when they’re wet and gooey like that, they’re very hard to eat out of your hand, the way you’re supposed to. Here’s the hard truth: I don’t like cherry pie.
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