Back when I was a bride, I was very proud to say that I had been cooking since grade school. I could make cakes, cookies, and brownies. I was surprised when my husband asked if could makes pies.

“You prefer pies to cakes?”

He shrugged. “It’s a guy thing,” he said. I went around and asked every man I came across, cakes or pies? And they all prefered pies.

Clearly I had to expand my cooking skills. How hard could it be to make a pie, anyway?

Well, it could be hard. Crusts crumbled and broke, the filling was like water and spilled out over the seams, sticking the pie in the plate, a crystalized sugar slick coated the bottom of the finished product.

Finally, one Thanksgiving when we were visiting his folks, who lived out in a rural area of Northern California, in a big rambling cold farmhouse that his father made by hand, the pie issue came up again. I asked my mother-in-law for help. Now this was a woman who resented me with the resentment only availalbe to an older woman when she sees a young woman getting too much attention. Notwithstanding that the very sight of me enraged her, I was family, and she gave me some advice.

With the crust, mix up the flour and shortening well until it forms a kind of heavy dust, then add the cold water just until it clumps, put it in the fridge, cool it for no less than half an hour. With the filling, don’t stop baking the pie until the filling is like jelly. Check it with a knife inserted through a slat in the crust, when it’s set into a jell, you can remove the pie. It takes longer to bake a fruit pie than you think. Usually over an hour at 350 degrees.

“Keep trying, you’ll get there,” she said, rather grimly. I never did understand her lack of delight in the life she lived, out there on the land, a farm wife, being what I always wanted to be. But there were many questions I couldn’t ask; we were reserved people. Instead of asking, I made a lot of pies.

Now it’s thanksgiving again, and the kids are planning our pies. I can make them all now; custard, fruit, chiffon, mousse. But the best pie is maybe the cherry pie. In the city, you buy the cherries in a can, although back at the farm in Northern California, there was a sour cherry tree, and my best ever cherry pies I made from those. So here, in memory of those days, is the recipe for the cherry pie, one of the best and easiest, with notations for the beginning cook.

CHERRY PIE

Crust:

Use 2/3 cups shortening, 1 tsp salt, 2 cups flour. Mix together in bowl, using fork or mixer. Get a cup of ice water in a pyrex measuring cup. Using a fork, pour the water slowly into the flour mixture, using only enough water until the mixture forms a soft ball. Put in the fridge, covered, for at least half an hour. Take out, divide in uneven halves: the larger half goes for the bottom of the pie . Use a 8″ or 9″ dish, as a 10″ dish will be too big. Spread out plenty of flour to roll out the dough, or put it between two pieces of waxed paper if you find the rolling out difficult.

Filling:

Use 4 cups (2 cans) of sour cherries, – do not use sweet cherries or canned cherry filling – 1 cup sugar, and 2 tbsp tapioca. Put together in a bowl. The tapioca is the thickening agent, and when cooked, it’s completely clear, unlike flour and corn starch. Once mixed, pour the mixture into the pie crust, and dot with butter. The butter is to protect the top crust from soaking with filling. If you skip it there may be wet spots on the top. Now roll out the top crust. It’s traditional here to make the cherry pie top a lattice, but that’s up to you. The simple way to make the decorative heat vents in the top is to fold the top crust into quarters, cut through the four thicknesses at the edge, and then open it up, like the snowflake art we used to make in school.

Bake

Bake the pie for about 1 hour at 350 degrees. It may take longer, so use the knife test to make sure the filling has gelled. If the edges are getting too brown, you can put tinfoil over them to to protect them. But don’t take the pie out until the filling is gelled. Trust me on that.

The pie needs to cool at least half an hour before you eat it (though we sometimes break that rule). Best served with ice cream. It is my experience the cherry pie gets eaten the fastest, but your results may, of course, differ – especially if it’s competing with the lemon meringue.