THE PIE MAKER
She loved to bake. Cookies, cakes, tarts, butter tarts, roulades; but mostly pies. Pies were her favorite. There was a simple artistry to a good pie that she found satisfying and therapeutic.
The smell of a fresh baked apple pie was a better air freshener than even the most non-chemical of sprays. It would fill the house with a warm sweetness that was unmatched, apple allspice and a dash of cinnamon.
Tourtieres were a great way to sustain a family, a spicy seasoned blend of meat and onions that promised full bellies and happy tastebuds.
Berry pies were a treat as well, a great fusion of natural sugars with a sometimes tart finish. One of her favorites was the bumbleberry pie, a healthy blend of blueberry, blackberry, and raspberry, each flavor a complimentary contrast to the others.
Today, she was playing with rhubarb though, fresh stalks picked from her own backyard. Rhubarb was not enough on its own though, so she was adding an apple and some strawberries to the mix. A hint of honey would hold it all together.
She rolled out the dough, her own fluffy recipe, and lovingly nestled it into the pie plate. In that doughy bowl, she added the fruit and berries, and a small drizzle of honey.
Another disc of dough topped it off and she folded the edges over on themselves and sealed them with a gentle press of her thumbs.
She slid the pie into the oven and started the small clean up job. In an hour and a bit, the bitter sweet aroma of the pie would fill the kitchen.
She couldn't wait.
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