Blue Robin Story
I grew up on a farm in the middle of nowhere Nebraska surrounded by animals and siblings. It was loud and it was messy and it was fun. My mom and my gramma were amazing cooks and bakers. They were absolute masters in the art of comfort food in massive quantities for their hard working/hard playing farm families.
But I was kind of a weird kid. I mean I did my farm chores, milked the cow, gathered the eggs, fed the goats etc. And I learned some of those awesome farm kitchen skills from the matriarchs. But I never quite felt satisfied. I had a major urge to get out there and see more. I always had a nagging inkling that I wasn’t born where I belonged. I guess that’s why I find myself in San Diego nowadays while the rest of my fam is living a day’s drive from my parents back home.
Somewhere between the farm and SoCal, I seem to have stumbled into adulthood. And somewhere along the way I learned how to make friends, get jobs, pay rent and bills, and make all kinds of novice adult-ish mistakes. Every now and then I got to put some of those farm kitchen skills to use making big comfort foods any time I could gather enough friends to eat them. But living those single days meant the occasion was rare.
I still miss the farm though.
And it has always kind of irritated me that those big-family-meal-feels don’t get to happen very often because the old recipes serve more than are in most people’s homes. I mean, pie serves 6-8 people. I really don’t think that’s fair to all of the 1-2 person households. That’s probably why pie only happens at Thanksgiving.
I think that’s absolutely tragic.
So I found a way for you to make your own homemade pie, but smaller. I used a variety of herbs and spices to make sure the crusts and fillings are full of flavor. No bland fruit or cardboard crust. Grandma’s comfort food, modern flavor profile, sizing for 1-2 not 6-8.