Pie

I love pie.  My pies are ooey, gooey spill over, packed full, NEVER, EVER made from canned pie filling and sometimes ugly.  But that ugly means it's real, the uglier it looks the better it is.

                                                                          My pies are packed tall

                                                   They need a bib for the spillover in the oven

                                                                 They are boiling over messy and lush.

I will choose pie over cake and cherry or blueberry over any other.  I never, ever order apple pie because everyone, especially bakeries and restaurants make it too sweet for my taste. I never use a recipe, I kind of just dump everything in a bowl, add tapioca for thickener, a bit of butter because everything is better with butter and put them in the oven.  And because of this I never truly know how they're going to turn out. Except for the strawberry pie.  That pie is perfection on a plate.  That pie is the reason God made strawberries.  That pie is a month away.

It's been a long time since I made a pie and this morning I made this one, a black raspberry pie with the  berries I picked last summer. A pie is normal, a homey dessert  and tomorrow we are finally doing something normal once again.  Friends are coming for dinner and I made a normal pie and home made vanilla ice cream for dessert. Doesn't get much more normal and homey than that.