Most mornings I’ll wake at first light and sit in my corner chair with coffee and journal. The words that find their way to paper flow like ribbons from a spool. I don’t make these words, I barely write them. They unwind and flow of their own volition it seems, perhaps falling from the last pages of my dreams. Sometimes they inform, other times amuse, and sometimes I have no earthly explanation for what they mean or how they came to be upon my page. Yesterday was such a morning. I’d been writing for maybe fifteen minutes, when out of the blue, Humble pie appeared. I asked (amused, as you can imagine), Really?! Humble pie? And Yes, was all it said. And so I laughed out loud. What would you have done? It seemed like such a reasonable response! I know, I know, but after years of companionable times with my journal, I’ve learned to listen. Writing in the mornings has uncovered much for me. When my thoughts and feelings are a jumbled mess, writing helps me sort them. It can help set me straight, show me where I’ve erred. It shines a light when I’m standing in the dark. SO even when something as silly as humble pie shows up, I say OK. Tell me more.
In this case, I took it both figuratively and literally. I suspect you’re more interested in the literal interpretation, which brings me to today’s offering: Strawberry and Rhubarb Galette.
Have you ever had a completely irrational, seemingly baseless fear? We all have, right? Well, mine has been pie. OK, absurd, I know, but I prefaced this by saying irrational. My Mom always made beautiful pies. Her crusts were never tough or soggy, but always buttery and flaky and just plain pretty. At some point, probably very early on, I told myself I could never make a pie like my Mom. And you know how it oftentimes is when you tell yourself a “lie,” you believe it instantly and go on repeating it for (oh, I hope it’s not so!) the rest of your life. SO, a couple years ago, being buoyed by little successes in unrelated areas, I vowed I would tackle the pie! I came upon a recipe for Galette, this free-form, rather rustic and charming little fruit-filled pastry. It seemed goof-proof. And I believed instantly, I can do that! And I did! And it was good! Have I conquered my fear? Not entirely, but I’m working with it. And maybe that’s all we’re called to do. Was it Maya Angelou who said, “Feel the fear, but do it anyway.” If it wasn’t she, it was someone else quite brilliant.
So this is me, being humble before you: I still have a little fear of pie. But I’m not willing to give up. Two reasons: 1) because who ever heard of being afraid of pie? and 2) berry pie is possibly my very favorite dessert and I’m a grown woman and I can’t expect my Mom to make them all for me! This humble little pie-like thing was my first attempt. Is it just possible that eating a little humble pie may be good for the soul? I think maybe so.