By now you’ve all met her, right?
She’s my mother.
She sews. Great things.
She knits. Beautifully.
Oh, and she cooks. Impressively.
I’m sure she learned all that out of necessity.
She was one of 12 children and grew up very poor.
So if she wanted it, she learned to make it.
Apparently I didn’t have the need to learn all those things.
Oh, I tried to learn to sew.
I made a windsock in 6th grade Home Ec.
It was hideous.
She proudly displayed it out for all to see.
I wanted to learn to knit a few years back.
She tried to teach me.
I am right handed, she is left.
Yeah, that didn’t work.
I AM a good cook.
I can follow a recipe very well.
I have rarely ruined anything.
I often take liberties and experiment with recipes to make them my own.
However, there is one thing that after all these years has elluded me.
It’s the pie crust.
I can make the dough.
I follow the recipe.
I just cannot get that dough rolled out.
It gets tough.
It doesn’t ever fit my pan.
I have never successfully fitted a pie pan with my own homemade pie crust.
I’ve tried and failed.
Then I go to the store and buy my old favorite.
So, mother, please come.
Teach me to make pie crust.
You gas money could save me from a lifelong, expensive relationship with the dough boy.