Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

Some point during my adolescent years of living in a little cottage in the woods, I became interested in a few things to pass the lazy summers and chilling winters. Those things included mornings in which I would don my favorite apron, turn up my oven and bake  pies, cakes, and countless confections. Then while my baking beauties were in the works my next step would be to fill my tiny fridge with various types of alcohol. Beer, wine, spirits, everything was appropriate.  Then, of course, I would invite a gaggle of my eccentric, hungry friends over to enjoy the bounty.  So the months passed, and the feel of flour, the smell of a cooling chocolate cake, the taste of fresh fruit encased in a flaky pie crust, and the look of pleasure on my friend’s faces became my passion. There is something about waking up, tying that special apron around my waist, and gathering the ingredients for a perfect dessert that feels wonderfully natural to me, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling. Although I have long left my airy, open, kitchen for a minuscule Brooklyn counter top, the tradition remains close to my heart and stomach.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: