The sun had returned and the rain clouds were gone. Television was turned off and the kids shooed outside. A trip to the market was in order and after a little cajoling and prodding – husband and daughter were off.
I had hopes of some yummy strawberries and maybe some garlic, but what I received upon their return was an unexpected surprise. Apparently, somewhere between here and the market, a plan was hatched to bake a pie. My daughter has experimented in the kitchen; she’s made muffins and cookies, does a mean grilled cheese and a fine scrambled egg too. Husband? Well, he’s not too shabby either. (Minus the mess he leaves in his wake!) A pie though? Really? He doesn’t even EAT pie. But I soon realized that this was about more than a pie – it was a connection being made, some fun and light in the house, a project they would do together that didn’t involve Lego.
I refrained from helping too much – save for some advice on buying a piecrust and how she should dice the rhubarb and slice the strawberries. This is the recipe they followed, adding a secret ingredient they wouldn’t tell me about.
I could hear giggles and patient instructions coming from the kitchen. Sometimes from her, mostly from him. I did dash out to grab some vanilla ice cream because who DOESN’T have ice cream with their pie??
The end result? Absolutely delicious. Perfectly tart and sweet together (kind of like them), and the store-bought crust? Even my mom would be proud!
