More Pie...

Last Thursday, about four o’clock, I started to ruminate on the age-old question: What should I make for dinner?

I scanned the fridge and pantry, considering my options: Grilled cheese and tomato soup. Spaghetti. Veggie burgers. On a normal day, these would be ok, but today, these choices seemed blah. Thursday is our family night—and I wanted to make some thing yummy, something healthy. And with the snow falling outside—I craved something akin to comfort food.

I guess I could go to the store, I thought. But upon further introspection, I didn’t want to take the time, spend the money, or waste the gas for the 30 minute round-trip jaunt to the grocery.

So, I went back to the pantry and stared in a zombie-like fashion, like my kids do at snack time. Since it was the end of the week, my options were scarce; I needed to get creative.

There has to be something I can make.

I started into the freezer. Stared into the fridge. Stared in the pantry again.

I made a cup of tea and continued to ponder the inventory. Finally, I decided I could make a meatloaf with ground turkey breast, chop up my two sweet potatoes to make fries, and sauté up the past-its-prime spinach. Though not exactly a home-run, the meal would be relatively healthy and tasty.

Then, as I dug the meat out of the freezer, I saw a bag of frozen berries and it hit me: I could also make a pie! Bingo!

I turned on the radio and started the pie. I didn’t have quite enough berries to fill the pan to the brim, so I diced a lone Granny Smith and tossed it in. As I pinched the edges of the crust and brushed egg white on the top, I felt a surge of joy. This would be the perfect end to our meal and our day. I carved a heart into the top. Berry-apple pie…made with love.

After dinner, I announced my surprise and smiles flooded the room. I sliced up big pieces of the still-warm comfort confection. We didn’t have any ice-cream, but it was still perfect.

“Mom, you are awesome!” Morgan exclaimed. Peyton agreed. Pete remained silent; his mouth was full.

It is a bit ironic, that as a kid I didn’t much like pie, nor did I really like to cook. Now it is these simple things that often bring me the most joy. I felt creative success at pulling a complete meal–and dessert!!!—from an almost empty pantry. I love making something warm and delicious as a treat for my family. Though I am still a fan of frozen pizza when my schedule is hectic, I enjoy the message sent with a nutritious and delicious home-cooked meal: You are worth the effort. I love you.

The next day, on my lunch break, I was back staring into the fridge. What can I eat for lunch?

This time the answer came quickly: A slice of leftover pie and a big glass of milk.

And as I ate it, I could feel the love.