It's a pie thing

I recently had a friend pop up from nowhere after not speaking to me for MONTHS  (mind you, this is one of those friends one obtains in a relationship...and then when it ends you wonder who gets the friend, and said friend wonders where their loyalty should really lie) his and her friends...another casualty of the failed relationship. This particular friend requested I make him a pie. Which is, of course, the only natural thing to ask a person that you haven't heard from in forever. Musta been a Damn good pie.

Now back to ... Pie... Yum. What a tasty and relatively easy dessert to make. Unless, of course... you have the assistance of two little hands and a mouth that eats more fruit than gets put in the bowl. Last year mom promised Emma a blueberry pie but made a blueberry pecan and peach cobbler instead. For Emma bear, that concept was less than palatable. Food is not supposed to touch, and it really shouldn't be cooked together...it just shouldn't. Unless of course its milk macaroni and hotdog aka juicy macaroni...then its ok, according to her. A dessert with blueberries, pecans, and peaches isn't cool aunt Barbara...silly aunt Barbara.
So again...pie...

I had picked a ton of berries at the vineyard the day before the girls arrived. I did so with the intention of having my Emma bear help make that long awaited blueberry pie. We worked together, I measured, she poured, etc...and her most valued contribution was when she working tirelessly as our in house quality control specialist, making sure we were using high quality and tasty ingredients fit for human consumption.

I'm pretty sure we got more flour on the counter, floor, hair, etc and blueberries in our bellies than ended up in the pie, but it was the experience more than the outcome. I must say though, it too, was a Damn good pie.