With A Cherry On Top

I’d like to take a second to talk about pie.

Back in Arizona, we only reserved our pies for Very Special Occasions, like Thanksgiving.  I don’t even think Christmas regularly made the pie-rounds. Seriously.  Only Thanksgiving.  This seems to make sense in a place like the desert where pie, especially fruit pies, is just not that commonplace.  We were no Oregon or Michigan, what with their cherries and black berries and strawberries and blueberries (if you’re sensing jealousy here, you’re on the right track.)

Fastforward to me being an adult.  Or some version of whatever an adult is.  And I. LOVE. PIE.  I love it all the time, here, and there, sitting down, standing up, on a table or in a chair.

I just discovered two weekends ago that our farmers market sells two kinds of cherries. Regular cherries and something called “Pie Cherries.” Excuse moi? Cherries made for pie!? I didn’t even know what to do with myself for a few moments, I was so dumbounded.  As soon as I emerged from my cherrie-reverie (cherr-everie? It's a thing, I promise you), I bought a ginormous box of them and ignored all the naysayers that say pie cherries are too sour to snack on.  Please.  Tart is good and these cherries are bomb (and even more bombastic in this, what may just be the Best. Pie. Ever.)

I think you could probably tell at this point in my Tart Cherry Pie scenario that I had never made a cherry pie.  I can’t recall even trying a homemade cherry pie in the past (instead, they were always of the maraschino-store bought-variety).  This pie was sweet, tart, homey, and incredibly inviting, and while my latticework might need some ..er…work, don’t hold it against the pie.  It was my own goofy hands that forgot to actually weave the lattice crust.  Silly hands.

I  loved having a lazy Sunday morning after an insanely busy June to listen to Radio Lab and pit pounds of cherries.  My table was a mess, my hands were expertly covered  in cherry-juice, yet I was very responsible about this pie and made the crust for the dough the day before (I planned ahead! Who? What!) and then journeyed through the streets of DC and the tunnels of the Metro to Veeb’s house for her Sunday Ice Cream Social Birthday Extravaganza.  And then said (still warm) pie was literally gone in 7 minutes. 

In short, it was a damn good Tart Cherry Pie. (The splash of bourbon I added only made things even more fantastic, I might add).  Cherry up, folks, before the summer gets too long gone.