One week back from a grandchildren-time-warp. Last night I slept ten hours, still in the wrong time zone. Ten days in Colorado, more laughing than I did the entire previous ten months, I came home happy and sad. But enough about my emotional state–let’s focus on baking. There’s no crying in baking.
Previously I predicted Pies 8.0 and 9.0 would be baked with my grandchildren. During my ten-day visit, we baked banana bread (with 3 eggs instead of 2 so everyone could crack one) and purple birthday cupcakes (with special food coloring that’s still under my thumbnail), but no pies. Instead we played soccer, hiked, read dozens of books, learned to swing, sit up, and wave. We changed diapers, gave baths, braided hair, wrapped mermaids, had a birthday, did science (sodium bicarbonate and acetic acid), installed a swamp cooler, built a porch, listened to songs, rocked the baby, cooked eggs, swept the floor, played games, sang songs, applied band aids, got and gave hundreds of hugs, and laughed my little head right off. We can’t even blame the baby for the lack of pies because obviously he is the best baby in the whole world.
Now back in my real time zone, I cracked open my abandoned Sugar Butter Flour cookbook and located an adorable peach pie on page 35 called “Life’s Just Peachy-Keen Polka-Dot Peach Pie.” She seemed simple to make so she took over the 8.0 spot.
I made the double crust on Friday evening, letting it rest in the fridge while I rested in my bed.
I found my old pie crust recipe in the spice rack. This is the recipe I have used for 25 years. My old stand by. Sorry, buddy.
On Saturday morning I donned my hairnet and red apron, poured some coffee and got to it. The bottom crust was rolled out, formed in the pan, and needed another cat nap in my fridge. The top crust required some fancy cut outs of little and less-little circles. I used an icing tip, and an old plastic scoop from a drink mix that was lurking in the back of the spoon drawer. The top crust and the circles got a rest in my fridge.
The peach filling was easy, except for peeling, pitting, and slicing the peaches. This task is nothing like peeling apples. The slime and juice went everywhere. And “six” peaches did NOT yield FOUR CUPS. I added three more peaches.
The recipe called for arrowroot starch, but said I could use cornstarch “in a pinch.” Since I spent my nickels on the special sugar for the top crust sprinkle, I went for the pinch, and used regular old cornstarch and it worked fine.
I carefully put the top crust in place. The recipe said nothing about how to attach it, so I just pinched it down a bit. The result was a small gap around the baked edge, but it looked good and the peaches didn’t leak out as I feared. I decorated the top by gluing down the dots with an egg wash. The whole thing got another rest in my fridge, then a full egg wash, a sprinkle of the special sugar and then a 70-minute bake.
After the bake, the crust looked gorgeous. If I ever need a quick pie, I could make this one again, likely much faster the second time.
I served this beauty with vanilla ice cream after a fireworks boat ride to friends and neighbors, and it was a hit. I’ve never eaten peach pie before and I embarrassed myself oohing and yumming over my own bake.
While I plan Pie 9.0, I’ll think of my grandbabies. I do miss those kids.