I made a pie

Bubby had a friend over yesterday after school and I made a pie.

When Bubby's friend walked into the kitchen, here's how the conversation went.

Bubby's Friend: Are you making a pie?

Me: Yes.

BF: What kind?

Me: Chicken pot ...

Me (again): ... pie.

BF (sounding disappointed): Oh.

Me: You don't like chicken pot pie?

BF: It's not my favorite.

Me: What is your favorite?

BF: Apple

Next time, Buddy.

I made a pie yesterday.  Because Hubby suggested I make a chicken pot pie to use up some roasted chicken left over from a Boy Scout event, and Hubby and AKD are the only ones in our household who love chicken pot pie.  One other person thinks it's OK, and the others are reduced to tears at the thought of having to eat it.  I figured making the pie when we have a guest will not only assure that more of the pie will be eaten (or at least dished out onto plates and pushed around enough that we don't feel as bad scraping it into the garbage), but it might also temper the tearful reaction.

I was right, on both counts.  Win.  Even though it's not BF's favorite.

When I was first married, I had a goal.  I had decided previously that new year's resolutions don't work, and I had replaced them with goals: silly, fun goals.  One year my goal was to make paper.  Another year, it was to make ravioli from scratch.  That particular year, 1995, my goal was to make a pie crust and get it into the pan without it cracking or breaking.

A lofty goal, you must admit.

For years, I had watched my mom struggle with pie crust.  She tried various methods of getting it into the pan, but nothing worked.  It always cracked.  Mind you, there's nothing wrong with cracked crust--it's easy to patch, and it tasted just as good.  It was just ... a struggle.

I tried lots of methods.  I think I probably even tried a pat in the pan pastry that was just atrocious. 

The winning method came from my mother in law, of all places.  I say, of all places, because my mother in law has not, to my knowledge, made her own pie crust in all the years I've known her.  Why would she, with ready-made crusts, and even ready-made pies, so readily available?  

Beaver-ly suggested that I roll the crust out between two pieces of wax paper, then use the wax paper to lift the crust into the pan.  

It worked!  I made a pie crust and got it into the pan without it breaking or cracking, and then I declared that I was never going to make another pie crust again.  But before I could never make another pie crust again, I had to do it once more to prove it was repeatable.

So I did.  That was 20 years ago, and I have used wax paper to roll out every crust I've made since then.  And there have been more than a few over the years.  It's so easy, and tastes so much better, why wouldn't I make my own crust?

I've used wax paper to roll out every crust I've made since then, that is, until yesterday.

I forgot.

How could I forget something so important, so essential?  How could I forget something that I've been depending on for so many years to make my pie-baking experience go smoothly?

I blame it on the fact that I had made Dutch-style pigs in blankets a few days previously.

Well, you can probably guess what happened. 

That's right.  I rolled out that crust and got it into the pan without it breaking or cracking and without the added crutch of wax paper.

Amazed.  I am simply ... amazed.

I made a pie.  I made a crust, rolled it out, and got it into the pan without it breaking or cracking.