by E.O. Schaub

“Ask me a riddle and I reply: Cottleston Cottleston Cottleston Pie.”

A.A. Milne

Confession time: I am a sometime dabbler in the dark arts. Yes, it’s true. I make pies.

Okay, maybe dark isn’t the right word. Golden brown is more like it… with all manner of lovely, lava-like fruity concoctions bubbling and steaming just beneath the surface. Name me one thing that’s better about summer than a perfect, freshly-baked pie sitting on the stove to cool- I dare you.

Nope, it’s pretty hard, you have to admit. Summer has so-oooo many of these quietly wonderful sensory-overload experiences: baking on a towel in the too-hot sun after a bracing dip in the swimming hole; taking that first, mouth-full-of-sugar bite of a big-as-your-head wad of cotton candy; or that green-stemmy smell of tomato plants, filled with hopeful, yellow flowers, peeking out from leafy hiding places, promising tomatoes to come… But if you ask me- and let’s assume that you did- none of these beats that moment when the hot summer pie is born.

Okay, I get carried away, I know. My husband tells me as much when I practically leap out of the car window after catching my first glimpse of a farm stand advertising “fresh peaches!” I can pore over the berry selection at Dutton’s Farm Stand for inordinate amounts of time, shooing the fruit flies and imagining wonderful concoctions, new pies to try out (hmmmm, what would Red Currant be like?), and old favorites to recreate (Strawberry Icebox, Summer Peach of course, and never, never overlook Just Plain Blueberry)… Continue reading Gooseberry, Gooseberry, Gooseberry Pie →