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Flush with the New Year, I had proclaimed 2012 the Year of the Pie Fairy. I had declared that I would do pie-bys–a sort of kindness attack–by bringing pies unannounced to friends and other loved ones. I haven’t quite gotten to the “unannounced” part yet, but I’ve been busy making baked goods for my dear ones.

I know I should feel sad that a “pie fairy” is retiring, but I am so overwhelmed with charm by the mere fact that there was a pie fairy that I’ve been giddy ever since I heard the news. Oh, wait, I should back up and tell you what I’m talking about. (See? Like I said, giddy.) For the last 35 years at Christmastime, Columbus, Ohio resident Bill Welch has been receiving a pecan pie from an unnam

With both daughters home for winter breaks, CurvyMama’s inclined to get a little sentimental. As each one reaches new stages of independence, I want–what else?–to make sure she has the requisite seasonings to bound happily into her culinary adventures. Much to my proud delight, both have turned out to be damn good on both the savory and sweet sides of the kitchen. So when my firstborn, Hannah, turne

Where the hell have I been? Good question. And it will come as no surprise to hear that I’ve been, you know, baking. Baking my ass off, to be precise. (Though I hasten to add that no amount of baking will ever completely rob me of the attributes for which CurvyMama was named. Have no fear.)

CurvyMama’s Thanksgiving pie-making is over, and it’s very quiet in Pie Central. The beauty of the day–bare trees against a bright blue sky–only highlights the quietness of the kitchen, with its uncluttered work table and countertops.

It’s easy to be afraid of making pie crust. I know. I am a recovering crust-o-phobe. I have been a passionate baker all my life, happy as long as I have my hands in some combination of flour, butter and sugar. But there was something about pie crust that made me steer clear. What spooked me?

It’s amazing what you can discover while you are putting off doing more important things. Toodling around online for anything related to pie, I came across a 1997 column in the Orlando Sentinel by a guy identified only as “Commander Coconut.” He must have had some kind of clout in the pie world, since the American Pie Council was asking him to help decide what to put on the organization’s offi

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 sufferi

I can’t think of anything that smells better than pies that are just out of the oven, sitting plumply on my stove grates for a nice long cool-down. The babies I’ve got perfuming the room at the moment are a pecan and a pumpkin, prepared for CurvyMama’s first official catering job. (yay!) We’ll box em up for delivery in the morning. Time to order stacks and stacks of aluminum pie tins and pink