I have my brand spanking new bionic knee! In the midst of all the hobbling, icing, medicating, and napping (unbelievable how much I have slept in the last two weeks), I’ve hardly been able to put three thoughts together, much less write about them.
A few days back, I was feeling energetic enough to make a small batch of peach preserves. I had everything going before I realized I didn’t have pectin. I may not have needed it anyway and didn’t bother to look it up. Anyhow, I switched gears, and cooked that goodness down so it could top some ice cream. Unfortunately, we were also out of ice cream that day. That was about all the disappointment I could stand for one day, so I popped it in the fridge and went back to my ice treatments and medicine.
That night I had a dream. Now, painkillers can bring on some pretty vivid dreams! I must’ve had that peach filling on my mind because my grandmother, who’s been dead these many years, suggested I make old-fashioned fried pies. Suddenly, I was transported to my childhood. I was standing by the stove watching my grandmother make this tasty treat.
When I woke up the next morning, I had it! Recipe, technique, grease temp, everything…just like I’d watched an instructional video. Russ took me to the grocery store (a story for another day, right there) and I patted that dough, filled it, and fried up those pies just as pretty as you please.
Remembering that old recipe and enjoying a fried peach hand pie was just like getting a hug from heaven!