a little pie party

I open the door to my home and the smell of warm peaches filter past, spilling off the front porch into the cool, crisp air. You were thinking I’d do pears, or apples, but I tell you I couldn’t resist that last crate of peaches at the co-op, and that I was missing my dear Grandma Ethel, who made the tastiest peach pie this side of the Mississippi. You sit down while Ella Fitzgerald sings soft and sweet, and I fill your cup full of deep, dark coffee while your foot taps along to the music. We talk slowly at first, with purposeful questions, but soon we pick up speed, feeling comfortable glimpsing into other worlds. We eat together, our tiny jar pies disappearing quickly, the sweet peaches giving us all one more day of summer to hold on to. Little hands and eyes peek over the table, shyly wanting to meet everyone, and also hoping for tiny pies of their own. They are given what they’ve asked for, with smiles all around. We move on to topics of food, and cookbooks, while exclaiming frequently how amazing this modern world is, how we are all sitting here together, each of us from so far away. There is a break, our spoons rattle and clang around our jars, our cups are stained black but empty. Ms. Fitzgerald is now whispering, lamenting so quietly that our time is up, we must move on, get back. And so, the door opens and closes again. I pick up the jars, and spoons, and cups and bring them to the sink. Drifting, dreaming in an azure mood I sing along with Ella. Stardust gleaming, through my solitude. There is one pie left, forgotten on the counter. I put the jar in the fridge, thinking of how tomorrow, somehow, I will eat it alone, yet still be near {just a click away!} to so many good souls.

{For these jar pies I used Deb’s Peach Pie recipe. My Grandma made a killer pie, but sadly never passed the recipe on. These little lovlies turned out great, but I had forgotten to use Cook’s Illustrated’s wonderful tip of placing the pies on a preheated baking sheet, so the bottom crust ended up being a bit soggy. Next time, next time.