About 15 or more years ago I conceded. After much self flagellation, high blood pressure, lots of flour and shortening, I came to the full realization that pie crusts were not my thing. I am okay enough with that to buy a pie crust when I have to. And it's a shame too, because I love pie. My mom made pies all the time, why can't I? I used recipes from Joy of Cooking, tried out Joe's Surefire Pie Crust recipe, took tips from all the housewive's secrets, used the ice cubes, didn't touch it, you name it, I tried the trick - but I still ended up squishing dough into pie crusts to at least contain the ingredients long enough to bake it. It was a tragic parody.
Enters John, my wanna-be-pastry-chef husband. Until he met me he was a Hamburger Helper, Pop Tarts kinda guy. As you know from recent posts, he has now taken over our bread making tasks. This weekend he tackled pie crusts. I hovered from a near distance. I made cracks from the peanut gallery; some out of fun, some out of envy. I relayed my story a dozen times. He is tenacious. And he was successful. Out of our oven, to my delight and surprise, came a perfect Apple Pie; melt in your mouth flaky crust, delectable apples....oh my.
I have now designated John as the Pie Baking King in our household. Let's give him a Big Hand!
I expect great things come Thanksgiving.