I think good ol' Lord Tennyson said it best ... "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." *sniff* A tear forms in the corner or my eye ...
This ... dear friends, summarizes perfectly, how I feel about the lemon buttermilk raspberry pie from The Williamsford Pie Company. Let me explain ...
My partner comes from a family where there is NO other dessert MORE FANTASTIC ... than pie. Fruit pie. The first order of business before any family get-together is "who is bringing the pie?". Then "has the pie arrived?" Followed by stimulating discussions about "what kind of pies" are available. And "who will be having what?", "when?" and "how many slices?"
They are, in a way, obsessed. (As my side of the family is with chips and french fries. But that is a separate post altogether ...)
After the first few family gatherings I realized that while I always fancied myself rather fond of a good fruit pie, there stirred deep within me, a sudden yearning for fruit pie. I began to judge (rather harshly) "the bad pies" (TOO JAMMY! SOGGY CRUST!), "the mediocre pies" (the ones you wouldn't go out of your way to buy, but since they're here, you might as well have 3 or 4 slices), "the good pies" (these got a few ooohs and aaaahhhs) and then ... as though posessed, we began the hunt for "fruit pie nirvana".
Does it even exist?
We've found some REALLY GOOD fruit pies at the local farmers markets in Burlington, Creemore, St. Jacobs ... but we always felt as though we shouldn't settle ... never give up!!! That is, until one day, many summers ago when we found the ever elusive perfect-pie.
I imagine 'this feeling' is shared only by great explorers discovering new lands. By poets, inspired by their perfect muse. A kitten, finding the perfect sunbeam in which to nap.
I digress ....
We try to make the journey to Williamsford as often as possible when we're "up north". Choosing what kind of pie to bring home verges on impossible. We can almost taste the blueberries, strawberries or cherries as we get closer and closer to the ordering counter ... we begin to dream ...
The crust? Flakey. Perfectly-imperfectly formed. Golden. But not TOO golden. Tasting much like angels dancing skillfully across your palate.
The filling? Fruit. And I'm talking serious fruit. No jam-glue holding flimsy and soggy pieces of last years freezer-burnt remains. No ... this ... this was pure fruit. Sweetened only by unicorn kisses and rainbows (at least that's how I imagine the recipe reads).
The wonderfully friendly girls at the counter hand out warm boxes "just out of the oven".
This weekend we heard "would you like to try our lemon buttermilk raspberry pie?"
My heart, skipped a beat. Those of you who know about my lemon-obsession know how my eyes must have widened. I GRASPED my partners arm, digging my finger nails deeply into his flesh. He withstood the pain. Lemon AND fruit together at last. No words were spoken. The tension was far too much to handle. Please, if there is a God, let them have one of those left for US!!!
Time passes. The seconds tick by like hours. We reach the counter. The pie changes hands.
With the transaction complete we skip back to our car breathless (breathless 'cause we RAN toward the store, trampling people who tried to get in front of us for fear that they may buy "the last pie" of the day!)
Upon returning to our cottage, we place the box carefully on the counter. Slowly, we open the box. The smell of warm-sweet-lemon fills the air.
My partner gasps - "it's just beautiful."
His words quiver and I fear he's going to succumb to tears.
With little hesitation ... we split! One heads for the plates and forks, one heads for the pie-slicing-thing-a-ma-jig. We return to the pie, gaze lovingly at it (I imagine this is how people feel about seeing their child for the first time ... although on some level, I think their experience pales in comparison to the VISION OF BEAUTY that is THIS PIE!)
The crust flaked sending shards of heavenly pastry flying.
The lemon buttermilk filling oozed like sweet custard.
The raspberries revealed themselves one juicy nugget at a time.
The restraint we showed at stopping at one piece each was remarkable. Somehow we made the pie last 3 days. And ... on the last day, when the tin foil pan made its way to the recycle bin, we paused. Holding back the tears that clouded our eyes. The pie, would soon be gone. Forever. We wondered ... is it better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all?
Oh. Hell. Yes.
So, dear readers, drop whatever you're doing and drive as quickly (albeit safely) as you can to Williamsford. Go now. Go quickly. Don't look back. And let's be honest buy two pies, one to eat immediately, and one to bring home. I hope you find YOUR true love, in Williamsford. Oh and if you want to bring one back to Burlington for me I'll pay you back.
|Lemon buttermilk raspberry pie - Williamsford Pie Company|