No one makes pies like my mother.
Yes, yes, everyone most likely says this about their mothers or grandmothers, but I’m convinced that my mom’s fruit pies could win competitions. Really.
It seems like I’m always looking for a good piece of pie, and I rarely find one that tastes as delicious as hers. So far, the closest contestant was at a family-owned apple orchard in northern Illinois called Quig’s.
Benjamin and I used to visit Quig’s regularly. We’d bike at nearby Moraine Hills State Park, and then treat ourselves to coffee and apple pie with homemade cinnamon ice cream. We even took my Dad there when he visited, and all three of us still reminisce about the taste.
I’ve decided that it’s time I try my own hand at pie making, but I do not want to venture into this task alone. So for Valentine’s weekend, when our dear friends Allen and Nick are here for a visit, we shall make pie! And we will of course be using my mom’s recipe. I hope we can do it justice. Time and tasting will tell.
