Baking, specifically pie-baking, is something I do well and really enjoy. And every time that I finally get myself in gear and start putting together a pie, I am always pleased and surprised (yes, really) at how my body just takes over. I made a strawberry-rhubarb pie on Memorial Day, and I was listening to a book on tape while I did it, and several times during the course of it, I would "wake up" and see where I was and what my hands were doing without my mind's commands! It is so very simple and easy, that I want to gather up all the women who think it is "too hard" and force them to take a class from me.
Man, the smell of that baking pie...! When I was younger and had more faith in myself, I would not even set a timer, but would just smell the air to know when something was approaching doneness (to be perfectly fair, I did this more with bread, and not pie. But occasionally pie, as well ) and would then start keeping an eye on the last few minutes, which are, as the world in general knows, the most important in a baking project.
I have finally grown up enough (or gotten old enough -- this is an elderly thing!) to think that a perfect slice of pie is made even more perfect, if that were possible (which obviously it isn't!) by a scoop of good vanilla ice cream, or failing that, some whipped cream. Some form of faintly sweetened cream to go with the pastry, whihc now seems to fill my mouth with too much crumb. Isn't that amazing? I used to LOOOOOVE pie pastry, and make lots of pastry cookies, and eat them without any difficulty. Now, however, the last few bites of pastry make me reach repeatedly for the milk.
Although, sitting here thinking about pastry cookies....yummy. A little orange marmalade, a little powdered sugar...mmm.