Pies

During my PT session yesterday, the conversation drifted to Thanksgiving…and pie. There were three great pie makers in our family- Gary’s grandmother, Florence; my grandmother, Beatrice; my great-grandmother, Bigg (Edna). Yes, my mom made a good pie and so did several other relatives, but we’re talking “great”, memorable pies. Those three were the experts.

Florence made the best fruit pies. If you wanted an apple, apricot, cherry, or pumpkin she made the best. Her crust was thick, but flaky. The only pie she made that I didn’t like was rhubarb. Does anyone even make that anymore?

Grandma Bea made silky smooth chocolate, lemon meringue, and coconut cream pies. She perfected her skills in the café where she worked and we benefited. Dad’s favorite was the lemon, mine the chocolate.

I can close my eyes and almost taste Bigg’s pecan pie. I’m not quite sure what she did that was different from anyone else’s version of this classic pie. If she ever divulged her secret I no one shared it with me. Pecan pies that I’ve attempted always seemed a little too sweet and the crust was too soft. She also made two pies that I could have skipped- mincemeat, and golden raisin. If my memory is correct, she still used a bit of beef in her mincemeat and I found that strange for a dessert. The raisin pie was just too sweet for my taste buds.

Mom made a good sweet potato pie. My child’s mind remembers more about my grandmother Della’s cakes than her pies. Of course, I spent more summers than winters at her house.

Years ago my mother gave me an 1890 cookbook and I’ve shared some recipes from it. This morning I’ll share the recipe for cocoanut pie:

 

One-half pound grated cocoanut, three-quarters pound of white sugar (powdered), six ounces of butter, five eggs, the whites only, one glass of white wine, two tablespoonfuls rose-water, one tablespoonful of nutmeg.  Cream the butter and sugar and when well-mixed, beat very light, with the wine and rose-water. Add the cocoanut with as little and as light beating as possible; finally, whip in the stiffened whites of the eggs with a few skillful strokes, and bake at once in open shells. Eat cold, with powdered sugar sifted over them.

 

No, I won’t be making a pie for Thanksgiving. My son is cooking dinner this year and I’m contributing a pie…that I bought. It’s still in the freezer. I know, I know. I’m a disgrace in the kitchen. Generations of cooking skills ignored me and waited for my three children. And for that I’m very thankful.