That’s what I do. I dream of pies. From morning ’til night I think about
- a pie that I’ve already made
- making, baking, and tasting the pie I am making currently
- the pie I will next make
Obsessed with pie dreams? Perhaps, but my pie baking obsession has turned into such a wonderful vocation that is, for the most part, a heck of a lot of fun. Oh to be sure, I’m not one who jumps for joy at the thought of doing the dishes, cleaning the kitchen, washing the floor, and folding the laundry after the baking is all done, but creating pies, writing recipes, giving pies away, teaching pie making, and writing books is a darn cool career, that I’m very grateful to be doing at this time of my life.
There’s a rhythm to most of my days. I get up and pad out to the living room. Gretapie (GP) and Mr Fez are close by, and they, of course, are awaiting breakfast. Once they are fed, I stoke the wood stove if it’s winter, or open the windows and doors if it’s summer, start the water for my coffee, grab the paper from the front porch, let GP and Fez out, finish brewing my cup of coffee, let GP and Fez back in, and sit down to sip and catch up on what happened in the world outside my door. (Usually I don’t need to know.) After some fruit and yogurt, or my favorite eggs and greens, I head off to a yoga class or a walk with GP.
I think about baking on my walk and try not to think of it during yoga. What will I make? Do I have all the ingredients? What can I substitute? Is a trip to the store necessary, or might a neighbor–Omma, Nancy, or Michael–have that extra egg I need. If I do go out, when I get back and supplies are ready for baking, it’s about eleven, and time for a little sit down with another cup, during which I review how I will make the pie du jour.
Today, since my baking and recipe writing for book three are finished early, I thought I would share a few photos with you of my early years growing up in Santa Barbara. I wanted to start with a full front photo of the first house where I lived. I pulled down the granny stairs to the attic, climbed up, and carefully brought down the box full of photos from those early years. As I went through folder after folder searching for a house picture, I couldn’t find a one that shows the complete front of the house. It’s not even on Google Maps because it was moved from it’s location…I mean literally picked up and moved early one holiday morning in 1962…when it was placed on a flatbed truck, and driven away. I do have a few family photos that show the front porch.
Our family home was next door to my dad’s mortuary. As I mention in Home Cooking, we did kinda grow up like the family in the tv show “Six Feet Under.”
Ok, thanks for humoring me. I had a good time sharing these with you.
Garden update: Between starting this post, and now just about to push the publish button, the weather became delightfully sunny and warm today. I was reminded of the story “Around the Corner” in the book Frog and Toad by Arnold Lobel, where Toad searches for Spring, and finds a daffodil in bloom around the corner of his house. Although there are no daffodils in bloom here yet, it did feel very spring like today.
So, I headed outside to begin the annual tree pruning. I finished about half of one of the big flowering ornamental plum trees in front. I’ll try to do more tomorrow.