Tale of Two Kitchens

I spent Sunday in the kitchen and it was the most interesting time I’ve had in a while. I had two goals for the afternoon: make a batch of sauce and bake my first Strawberry-Rhubarb Pie. It turned into a study of contrasts.

First things first, get comfortable in the kitchen and start the sauce. I can make sauce with my eyes closed and long ago are the days where I worried about having the temperature too high or that I’d make a mess. It is cathartic and there is a rhythm I’ve developed where I know exactly how long each step will take, at exactly the right temperature, with the exact browning of the garlic, the exact amount of olive oil and the perfect blend of herbs and spices. It was with great ease that I finished my sauce and let it simmer to perfection. There is no other scent in the world that gives me more comfort. Not surprisingly it makes me think of my Great-Grandma and Grandma. I know my sauce will never be as good as Great-Grandma’s or Grandma’s but that is okay. It is dang good and it gives me the most satisfaction in the world when I ladle my sauce into the mason jars. After three hours I had 48-oz of sauce to last us this summer - Success!

On the flip side was my pie baking experience where I was a fish out of water. It was a good challenge for the afternoon, even if I was unsure of every step. The only pie I’ve ever done with any hint of success is my Grandma Lang’s Glazed Peach Pie; it is an old South Dakota recipe that my dad makes to perfection. I studied many recipes (11 to be exact) and settled on one that appeared simple enough. I used the ready-made crusts that I had left-over in the freezer and got to work. (I know this is cheating but I didn’t have the energy to attempt my own crust.) I prepped my rhubarb, strawberries and some leftover blueberries. I made the filling and started to assemble. At first blush it seemed like this would be easy, the fruit was perfectly ripe and had great color and the recipe appeared to have the correct ratio of fruit to filling. I assembled my lattice crust with some difficulty then put it in the oven. What came out of the oven was a pie with a severely burnt crust and didn’t appear to bake through all of the filling; it was by all appearances a complete failure. Jeremy was a good sport and we tried it after a few glasses of wine. The taste was too sweet, the appearance was ugly and the end result appeared more of a cobbler than a pie. The only saving grace was that it tasted good with ice cream. Anyone for a slice of humble pie?