Pondering my Pie Town pilgrimage

Anyone who knows me knows that I can’t resist a good slice of pie … especially if its homemade.

In my 20s, one of my favorite things to do was watch CBS Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt. It offered insight into art, politics, and it allowed me to travel to little known places while enjoying a cup of coffee relaxing in my favorite chair.

I enjoyed watching Roger Welsch’s Postcard from Nebraska when I was living in the Minnesota north woods. My neighbors and I got a kick out of humorist and folklorist.

We revealed in the fact that Nebraska was kind of an interesting and intriguing state – even though Iowans, like me, despised the Nebraska athletic teams.

To compliment Welsch, CBS brought in a guy named Bill Geist. Geist who was humorist like Welsch, created his own niche with his “Slice of Life” segments taking viewers to obscure places around the United States. It was fun to follow Geist across the country.

Geist covered small towns in America. He ventured off the beaten path exploring icehouse races, stone skipping, eating lutefisk, attending St. Urho’s celebrations as well as other obscure places and events other journalists didn’t care to explore. He covered small towns and their unique qualities.

Although it was many years ago, Geist visited a place called Pie Town, New Mexico. And believe it or not, people are still attracted to the place. At least, I am and so were thousands of others this past Saturday.

I remembered Geist’s segment featuring Pie Town when I moved here from the Midwest. I put it on my bucket list of places to visit in New Mexico as well as the other unique and interesting sites.

So, Russell Huffman and I hopped in the Moellermobile and moseyed towards Pie Town in Catron County for an afternoon of hilarious fun. It was the sight of the highway sign “Pie Town” that made me think of my grandmothers’ hands carefully rolling out the crust of one of the many, many pies she made in her lifetime. She was the person whom I learned how to make the perfect pie crust.

As we entered the unincorporated limits Pie Town, we had trouble finding a place to park. However, one of the Pie Town Festival volunteers too pity on us and allowed to park in a special area … all because Russell had a ton of equipment in tow.

As soon as we parked … it was just like Bill Geist said it would be: A quaint little place that offered a delicious “slice of life” in a place vivid with community support.

It was my kind of place. You see … this German gal loves pie. I grew up on pie. My great-grandmother made the most delicious blackberry sour cream pie; my Grandma Moeller made wonderful custard pies; and my mom – well … rhubarb custard pie with mile-high meringue was her specialty along with strawberry rhubarb. And me … well I make a mean cranberry/raspberry and a chocolate pecan bourbon pie.

As a child I learned how to roll out pie dough watching my grandmothers. They plop some pie dough in front of me then hand me their rolling pin. “Nice and easy,” they’d say. “Don’t over roll it.” The key to perfect pie dough, they said, was lard and a cold rolling pin.

Growing up on the farm, we always had pie for dessert. I don’t know why, but no one seemed to take too much of a hankering for cake. We had several fruit trees on the farm - apple, peach, apricot plus tons of raspberry and blackberry vines. Plus, mom lovingly cultivated her rhubarb and strawberry patches. Now don’t laugh or snicker when I tell you this … but we had one upright freezer dedicated to pies that were ready to bake. As my mother often would say, “You never know when company may drop in … so we’ll be ready to serve pie.”

I’ve been able to perfect my pie skills through the years. Before I moved to New Mexico, I saw an advertisement in a local newspaper about a group of Amish women who were hosting a pie seminar. It read: Bring your rolling pin and a pie tin. We’ll help you fill it with the most delicious fruit pie!

I spent a whole day in the Amish countryside learning their craft on how to make the most mouthwatering pies. One Amish lady knew I was serious about making pies. “I see you brought a real pie pan” as she pointed at my 12-inch glass pie pan I inherited from my grandma. “That’s how we like to make them – big.”

My day with the Amish was quite enjoyable and memorable. Besides, I’ll probably never have the chance to bake a pie in a wood burning oven again.

So when I walked the grounds of the Pie Town Festival it felt like a real down home country festival like many I attended back in Iowa, Minnesota and Wisconsin. There were great craft vendors, lots of good food … and plenty of pie (I bought four to take home). However, I should note I had to surrender the apple pie because of a lost bet with Russell.

Oh, and I bought a few crafts too … included a pie-shaped beret hat. I couldn’t resist. Now I can wear the hat when I show off my pies on social media.

So, thank you Pie Town for the great trip down Memory Lane. You rekindled my memory of standing beside my grandmother rolling out pie dough to make the perfect pie. It was worth the journey to your community for a wonderful slice of pie and Americana.