We have a bushel of freshly picked peaches which I decided to house in a pie while Karen crafted devilishly rich brownies. As I peeled peaches, I announced to Karen that we needn't feel guilty for this pie as it didn't have added sugar. I looked over to see her sitting cross-legged on the counter, slurping brownie batter right out of the bowl. "Um, yeah I'm not exactly concerned with sugar intake at this very moment," she informed me.
I filled the pastry . . .
and wanted to make a lattice-top crust. Only problem was I didn't actually know how to make a lattice-top. I was slightly concerned . . .
but it turned out beautifully! (After I squealed in exasperation several times and sighed, "I don't know what I'm doing!" several more.)Yeah, I was a titch proud of the little guy. The roommates threatened to pummel me if I didn't stop gushing, "Oh, it's so darling! C'mere! Look at how cute it is!!" I was forced to call my mother to fulfill my gush requirement for the day. (No, I don't at all have an insatiable need for attention.)
I think my first lattice-top pie has secured my induction into true womanhood; I own and frequently use a crock-pot, I've canned food, knit a baby blanket and watched An Affair to Remember at least a dozen times. With this pie, I'm pretty sure it's official.
P.S. If you're ever bored/hungry on Sunday evenings, please come over and eat our food. Please. Like right now. SOMEONE COME EAT THIS PIE!