Eamon loves to cook. He will often offer to make his own food. Some evenings when presented with my dinner plan, he will suggest that he make the meal. His version is often met with bigger smiles than mine.
This weekend, he decided that he would make a peach pie. Undeterred with only nectarines in the cupboard, he forged ahead with plans for an apple pie. He eagerly pulled out a jar of apple pie filling that I had canned last fall. We agreed that it was a good idea. He opened the jar and tested it to ensure quality (he loves the apple pie filling and would eat it by itself most days).
I am not a pie maker, so I suggested he consult one of my cookbooks. The Joy of Cooking was his pick. He flipped to the pie section and quickly began reading and collecting ingredients.
He poured, measured and mixed. I showed him how to cut in the butter and add ice water. He did it all with finesse. I am sure his great grandmothers would be proud. Once he had the dough prepared, he was ready to build his pie. He was a bit disheartened to learn that the dough needed to chill, but was consoled with some time outside at the park.
When the time came to roll out the dough, Eamon was busy. Several attempts to entice his help were ignored, so I rolled out the bottom crust. He slowly meandered into the kitchen amazed at what I had done. With the rolling pin procured at a yard sale by my father, he set to work on the top crust. We decided on a leaf motif on the top created with a few cookie cutters. It is fall now even in Arizona.
We filled the shell with the jar of pie filling and carefully set the leaves on top. Eamon sprinkled a bit of sugar and cinnamon on the leaves as well. I showed Eamon what to do with the leftover pieces of dough. As I explained the process, I let him know that this is the part I remember best about my mom making pies. She would let us slather the leftover pieces with butter and sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar. He made the leftovers into a few hearts to share with his brother and sister.
Eamon watched the baking of that pie like a proud parent. He chastised me a bit about burning the leaves. I explained that it was just the cinnamon and it should not affect the flavor. We let the pie cool and decided to wait to eat it later in the day. (It looks much browner in this picture than in reality).