I have a memory stored in my brain about a pie. I was in 2nd or 3rd grade so this goes way back.
My mom, a really good cook, made a fresh blackberry pie. I can remember seeing it sitting on the counter cooling. It was a sight to behold sitting there all golden brown with the dark purple juices trying to leak out. I wanted to eat it SUPER bad. Mom told me that we had to wait for it to cool down a bit because it would burn our mouths if we didn't. It was torture. That was when I fell in love with blackberry pie. It was quite the special treat.
Now, many years later, I still LOVE blackberry pie.
I made a trip to Utah this summer to visit family and such and while I was there the blackberries in my parents back yard were rip-rolling ripe! Of course, I had to have a pie. Thing is, my mom wouldn't make it. She said I had to.
Just so you know, I can't make pie crust. I have thrown out more pie crust dough than I care to count. (I usually give up.) It just doesn't ever seem to work for me. I usually can follow a recipe pretty well but rolling out pie crust is a pain in the pa-too-ber. It ends up breaking and tearing and sticking and not sticking, etc. I don't have a super fun time making pies.
My mom, being the patient woman she is, told me she would give me yet another lesson. I whined a bit, but it didn't even faze her. I still had to do it myself.
Step by step she lead me through the process. And you know what? It turned out beautifully! For the first time EVER my pie turned out to look divine. And every bite I took of it was heaven.