I’m a crybaby. While I don’t cry as
easily or as often as I used to, every once in a while, those tears
just have to fall.
For
Christmas we received the Stottlemyer calendar that Aunt Patty makes.
The yearly gift has the birthdays, anniversaries, and current
pictures of everybody in my husband’s large family. As I eagerly
flipped through the months, I noticed that our wedding anniversary
looked awfully lonely by itself on that square in August. You see, we
were married on Grandpa Bill’s birthday. I was overwhelmed by
sudden grief, remembering Grandpa’s passing, and I cried.
Then
on Saturday I fought back the tears again, but for an entirely
different reason. Our large van isn’t the easiest of our vehicles
for me to drive, and let’s just say it prefers dry, paved roads to
icy and muddy dirt driveways. For the second year in a row, I
managed to get the van hung up in our friends’ driveway for
butchering day.
There
I was, trying to rock the van back and forth just enough to gain some
traction, and all the while I had an audience. I was stressed out, to
say the least, and I soon admitted defeat, leaving the van mess for
my husband to deal with while I, with my tail between my legs,
retreated inside so I wouldn’t have to watch. If my audience hadn’t
been kind friends, I’m pretty sure the tears that threatened would
have spilled over, and it’s possible I might have died from
embarrassment.
And
sometimes I cry because of the beauty of it all. That happened this
morning at church. I watched as my husband baptized a precious baby.
I watched that baby and her family, I held my own squirming and
Cheez-It-covered little ones, and I simply couldn’t hold all the
happy inside. All the beauty and promise in life spilled right out as
tears.
And
that’s the kind of crying I like to do. In this new year, may all
your tears, or at least most of them, be those joyful tears born of
delight and wonder and pure happiness.
**********************************
At
the hog-butchering this year, as usual, pies took center stage (that
is, after the contents of the puddin’ pot). I would say my favorite
was the raisin pie; this year my friend didn’t realize until too
late that she had golden raisins instead of the regular kind, but
that pie did not suffer. If anything, it was even better!
I
stayed up the night before baking cherry pie, pumpkin pie, and
because I had some extra crust and no fruit thawed out, this Bob Andy
pie. I think I got the recipe online a few years ago, but I have no
idea what’s behind the name. It’s a simple pie filling that’s
easy to make, and the best part is that you’ll most likely have all
the ingredients on hand.
Bob
Andy Pie
3
large eggs
2
cups whole milk
1
cup granulated sugar
2
tablespoons flour
2
teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2
teaspoon salt
1
(9 or 10- inch) unbaked pie shell
Adjust
oven rack to lowest position and heat oven to 325℉. Crack eggs in
a medium bowl and whisk. Whisk in milk. Add sugar, flour, cinnamon
and salt and whisk into milk mixture.
Pour
filling into unbaked pie shell. Bake until custard has set and crust
is golden, about 50 minutes. Remove from oven, cool and serve at room
temperature or chilled.
I read this post and thought I remembered having the recipe for Bob Andy in an amish cookbook I have and that it mentioned where the name had come from. So, I dug it out and was disappointed to see that the only thing it said was, "no one has been able to explain the name". The mystery continues, I guess.
ReplyDeleteAnd if it's any consolation, I'm a crybaby, too. I cried reading this and thinking how happy I am that you're my friend and how proud I am of your writing.
Awww. . . thanks :) Now you made me tear up!
DeleteAnd about the pie, sometimes the fun names are the ones that can't be explained.