Memories of Pie

One of my neighbors is quoted in American Food Roots:

Kathy Bosin of St. Michael’s, Md., once knew a pie so special that she regularly ate it without a plate or fork while standing up. “Every spring, master gardener Dave Horton would bring a homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie made by hand from his own garden to the Bell Demonstration Garden – an urban community garden in north St. Louis,” Kathy writes. “Back in the early 1990s, we were a fledgling group, working together on vacant land to build community through growing food together. We didn’t have much – not many tools, resources – in fact, we never even had plates and forks to eat that pie. But it was a rite of spring, and we’d gather around as Dave cut slices with his pocketknife, and plunked them into our hands. Sweet, tangy, flaky and oh-so-special. It was a ritual celebrating the brightness and hope of spring – when everything seems possible.” Bosin writes about local food and life on the Chesapeake on her blog, A Chesapeake Journal. (Read more.)

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