a pie cooling on the windowsill

I am not a cook. I am a baker. I get a great deal more satisfaction from making a perfect pie or cookie than searing a piece of meat in the right way or crafting a savory sauce. Unfortunately cooking is something you can do every day multiple times and baking is seen as an occasional practice; an treat. With this in mind, I cook more often than I bake.

This Sunday, even though I was making braised short ribs with root vegetables, I couldn’t have cared less. Dinner was merely foreplay. The song and dance the respectable adult in me had to perform in order to get to enjoy the main event. A beautiful, delicate Saskatoon berry pie I had made that afternoon.

I should mention that while I love eating baked goods, I generally enjoy the process of baking rather than the eating. In the case of my Sunday pie, I had been waiting hours for the appropriate moment to dig in 1. to taste the pie and enjoy the labors of my efforts and 2. to make sure that it turned out okay and that the pride I was feeling with was justified.

After the hours of anticipation, the pie was delicious. I had added lime zest and ginger to the filling so the unique flavour of the berries was made all the more interesting with those added. Pride intact.

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