Things My Grandmother Baked.

This is a continuance in what, hopefully, will be a series. Weeks ago I posted about the memorable sayings of my Grampa Pete. This week I will give equal consideration to my Gramma Peg. Gramma Peg and Grampa Pete were married sixty years before Lady Di and I tied the knot. Grampa Pete died just a few years ago and Gramma Peg is still going strong at 94 years old.

Growing up I lived a few blocks from both sets of grandparents in a small town, so I was fortunate to be able to spend a lot of time with them. And Gramma Peg knew how to lure me to her home for many visits. Gramma Peg knew how to bake. And she baked a lot. She was even good enough to get my sister and I to eat bran muffins, and like them.

Grandma Peg's specialty, though, was baking pies. Every holiday she made a seasonal pie for dessert. Pumpkin pie, of course, for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Peach pie when the fresh peaches came to the grocery store by the crate in the summer. She had an apricot tree in the back yard that produced apricots only one summer in its life. That year it must have gotten pollinated just right because apricots were bending branches and filling multiple coolers, so Grandma had to bake pie after pie just to keep the fruit from rotting on the ground.

This time of year, however, puts me in mind of her number one pie, apple pie. She makes her own crust, picks her own apples and creates a perfect pie.

Since she was such a prolific pie baker, she would fill her deep freeze with pies to enjoy at a moments notice. One of my fondest memories of college was coming home for the weekend and returning to school with one of Grandma Peg's pies. My roommates were understandably jealous. I would share on occasion, but the slices I cut for them would be the thinnest possible. One related memory that I will never forget is when I had taken my foil wrapped pie back to school. I spent the entire drive anticipating cutting a slice when I got back to my dorm room. When I got to my room, I unwrapped my dessert, cut a piece, put it on a plate and settled in my chair to enjoy. The first bite made me pause. This was not apple pie. I was green tomato pie. Which, amazingly, tastes similar to apple pie, but is not apple pie. Since Grandma Peg was such a prolific pie baker, she understandably would sometimes lose track 0f which pies she had in her deep freeze.

I didn't complain though. As long as more pies kept coming, I kept eating them. Besides, green tomato pie is pretty good and I encourage anyone who has the opportunity to try one.

I have many wonderful childhood memories and many have come from my grandparents. Number One Son and Sweet Pea were also lucky enough to enjoy a few of Grandma Peg's pies. And who knows, with the holidays coming up in a couple months, maybe they too will get to try green tomato pie.

Thanks, Grandma Peg, for all the pies and so much more.