Grandson David had the day off, and we decided to have a short day trip after the car was serviced. Being in Asheville would give us a quick start. The car place didn’t take long, but as we drove away, David was called into work. We knew that might happen. Rain was in the forecast, anyway, so we drove home. It was a lovely drive to nowhere.
John thought perhaps we might do a little gardening, and that’s exactly what I did. He took the garbage to the trash center, while I clipped some over-zealous tendrils that were trying to invade the garage. A light drizzle fell, gradually wetting my back. This was perfect for my first day in the garden this year. Twenty minutes was enough to make me feel quite virtuous. Doing the garbage run took him longer. I enjoyed a fresh cup of mocha coffee on the porch as the drizzle turned into a downpour.
This was as good a day as any to make a Christmas pie. I promised John a Cranberry Mince Pie last December and never made it. Surely this is not as theologically askew as you might think. We wouldn’t have Easter without Christmas, and Christmas would not be celebrated without Easter. John won’t quibble, and David won’t either. Besides, it will all be gone before Palm Sunday.
In case you are wondering, I will not tag grandson Nathaniel on this. Even for a family-only dish, he would strive for perfection. I should not have dumped all the filling in the shell, because I suspected it would overflow. It did, but the cookie sheet caught it. There wasn’t enough dough to make a proper lattice crust. Nathaniel would have made another batch. I didn’t and went from batch to botch. I won’t bitch about the botch, because almost any Butch would eat it.