Guys, my grandmother made the BEST pies. Like, the absolute best. Now, I know that sounds completely cliched. Yes, of course she made incredible pies, because she was a grandmother. Right? That’s sort of how it works. I’m hoping that by the time I’m a grandmother, I’ll be able to make awesome pies, since my pie-making skills these days are severely lacking. But the thing was that, as far as I know, she could always make a killer pie. Always.
She had tons of specialties. She baked pies every Sunday, every single week. They differed depending on the season, of course. Her apple was incredible. Her cherry was fabulous. She made the best pumpkin custard pie around the holidays, and her coconut cream pie still haunts me, because I’ve never found anything like that. It truly melted in your mouth.
Once, she made a peanut butter pie that my cousins and I lost our minds over. She never made it again, and we were devastated. She did a few old-school pies, like mincemeat and date, and I refused to even taste those ones, because the names freaked my 10-year-old self out way too much. Her berry pies were an absolute dream. She made a wonderful black raspberry pie, occasionally a strawberry pie and always a blueberry pie. Always.
I find blueberry pie the most difficult to make. Well, scratch that — it’s not that it’s the most difficult to make, but it sure is difficult to slice into adorable pieces without losing all of the incredible filling. Whomp whomp.
So we’re going to solve that problem today. Take your pie — more specifically, your leftover pie. You know, the one sliver or piece that has been sitting there for two days and is just practically done. You doubt you’ll eat it.
But guess what? You sure can drink it!