My boys have spent the last two and a half days hanging out in the sour cherry trees in our front yard.  We sampled the not-quite-ripe cherries Monday afternoon, and Tuesday morning they popped out of bed and proceeded to breakfast from the limbs of trees.

Asher 1


I joined them as soon as I could, in part so they’d stop asking me to supervise their ladder climbing to the higher branches, and in part because I love to pick fruit.  Even fruits I personally don’t care to eat, like sour cherries.

Cherries in tree

My one annual goal in regards to the cherries is to make to a pie.  One pie.  That’s it.  While I’m jealous for other fruits (strawberries, black raspberries, blueberries), I’m fine leaving all but the 5 cups I need for the pie to my boys and the birds.

But this year, making the pie was a struggle.  Last year, the cherry trees withheld their fruit, so there was no pie.  A lot has changed in two years.  My life—to put it in the positive terms recommended to me by a dear friend—is very full.  This year, as I sat at the kitchen table pitting these little cherries one-by-one, my mind raced.  Over and over, I heard this question bombarding my mind: Is this really the best use of your time?

No, it wasn’t.  Not from an economic viewpoint, or a social justice viewpoint, or practical I-have-a-household-to-run viewpoint.  Maybe it’d be different if you were making something nutritious, said that voice in my head, a sustaining meal or a salad.  But a pie?  Really?  A dessert?

Theoretically, I knew to tell that voice to shut it.  To say, Today, friends, I will do something that does not compute (thank you, Wendell Berry).  To say, There’s beauty and joy in the impractical, in growing these cherries right outside my front door, in spending the time picking and pitting, in forming the perfect crust and cooking down the cherry filling and taking that first delicious bite.

Practically, my mind says, Yeah, yeah, beauty and joy, that’s great, but you’ve got laundry to do and ideas to pitch, peas to pick and invoices to email. 

Yes, I say, acknowledging the voice.  I do have all that to do.  But “right now”—in stolen moments over the course of these two days—I’m making this pie.  I’m use the filling recipe from my mother-in-law, the crust recipe from my mother-in-law’s mother.  I’m offering taste tests to my boys.

Spoons 2

I’m sharing the finished product with my parents and my in-laws and my grandparents, those people in my life who truly love this dessert.  And, for the moment, that voice in my head is quiet as I enjoy bite after bite of impractical, delicious pie.

Pie 2

If you like’d to take the time to make this lovely pie, scroll down for the printable!

A few notes about the pie:

1) Dan’s grandma’s crust calls for 2 ½ cups Crisco, but I didn’t have that in the house, so I used 2 cups butter, ½ cup Crisco.  For health reasons, I’d recommend butter over Crisco anyway, but I wanted to give the original recipe.

2) The crust recipe makes enough for two double-crusted pies.  I divide the crust into four parts before I chill them.  Once they’re cold, I freeze two for future use.

3) If you decide to make a lattice pie crust, check out The Kitchn’s post on How to Make a Lattice Pie Crust.  This was my first time making a lattice, and their instructions were illustrated and clear.

Photography and Food Styling: Julie Oudman Perkins

[yumprint-recipe id=’12’]