I love pies. I love homemade cakes, too, but pies bring out the longing in me.
Recently, I made a peach pie that approached my Platonic ideal. One teenage dinner guest told me that "if this pie were at our house, it would be gone by breakfast." My response was gracious—it was a great pie. But I knew it wasn’t perfect. I hadn’t sliced the fruit neatly. The filling was tasty mush.