My fondest memory of Thanksgiving is the smell of pies cooking. My grandmother made them. So did Mom.
My wife, who surpasses them all, spent 48 hours leading up to the big day in the kitchen making pies of all sorts and sizes. In an effort to satisfy all our preferences, her personal record is 31 pies in two days.
We have picky eaters, two grandchildren with celiac disease, and assorted purists. My wife makes the crusts by hand, uses only fresh or home-canned fruit, and will cut anyone who come...
<iframe src="http://www.sltrib.com/csp/mediapool/sites/sltrib/pages/garss.csp" height="1" width="1" > </frame>
↧