Managing My Pie Jones

CurvyMama’s back in home territory, having finished her pie-making week in Bubby’s kitchen in New York. Never fear, however, that the pie adventures will end just because we’re back in Policy Town. A major pie fixation led us to email a total stranger to begin with, begging to work in his kitchen; that same obsession will take us down new avenues in the months ahead.

Already today, I’m suffering from pie withdrawal. For the first time in days, my hands haven’t touched pie dough, so they got into mischief. They looked up the addresses of restaurant supply stores, got the keys out of my purse, and steered my car up the freeway and onto an obscure road in an industrial neighborhood. They even fished out my credit card and paid for assorted spatulas, measuring cups, oversized mixing bowls, and a baking sheet that’s too big for my damn oven.

They also spent some time price-shopping for aluminum pie tins and cake boxes in bulk, so we’re all ready to fill our Thanksgiving pie orders. By late afternoon, I was jonesin’ for pie with sufficient intensity that a charming little foursome of individual lemon pies jumped, unassisted, into my shopping bag at Trader Joe’s. They made a lovely snack while I perused my recipe books, plotting and planning a dozen or so recipe-testings and -tweakings that will fill the next couple of weeks.

We’ll keep you posted as our pie-baking enters a home-again stage.