It happened in the butler’s pantry.
A hall-way space, and once upon a time when our house was first built, it was the kitchen.
Now a brown cow supervises my every move.
On a snowy day, I faced down that cow and got to making.
I got up around 4 am, took the dogs and That Cat out for bathroom breaks, and settled in with my first cup of coffee. Sleep is just so elusive these days. I’m no longer fighting it.
In the darkness of early morning, the snow blew in and started swirling around in a mad beautiful dance. It continued to fall throughout the day, covering everything in a blanket of white magic.
A few days ago, I took down the multi-colored holiday lights on the front porch and replaced them with white twinkle lights. Somehow they seem extra twinkly in the snow.
In the pantry.
The chippy white table I purchased at auction many years ago, I’ve lugged to several different shows and events. I used it as a display table when I was selling at antique and then later, art shows.
It did a stint in my art studio, holding my sheet glass. In recent years I used it to hold my sewing machine.
After taking down the holiday decorations, I rearrange some things in the house.
The chippy table is now in the pantry area surrounded by our collection of antique crocks and kitchen utensils and vintage cookbooks. The table provides a place for my mixer and my food processor, no longer taking up counter space or inconveniently in a lower cabinet that makes me groan and whine when I have to retrieve it.
On the lower shelf, a basket holds potatoes and a brown-ware bowl that belonged to my grandmother is full of onions.
The walls are wrapped in decorative plates from Germany, miscellaneous brick-a-brack all in soothing tones of blue, greens and browns. A clay cow, that watches everything. A vintage print of an old English scene, a recent five dollar purchase from the thrift store.
Beautiful prized paintings from artist Debra Smith of Monnie Bean Folk Art.
The metal pig I made years ago, from the rusty metal roof of a pole barn that collapsed on our property, after a winter storm, probably back in 1993 or ’94.
The bottle of wine is for sipping while I cook dinner.
On the wall across from the chippy table are cabinets that used to be in the kitchen addition that was added to the house in the 1960’s. Here you’ll find my flour, sugar and other baking supplies. Glass ware, decanters, and high on the top of the cabinet, Cassie Cow a plastic pull toy – another vintage item, my favorite childhood toy.
It is here, in this cozy, utilitarian space, surrounded by our kitchen collections and comforting warm colors, and one knowing clay cow, and one plastic cow, that I faced down, that fear of mine.
Making a pie crust from scratch.
Yes, it all seems rather silly now that I have accomplished what I set out to do. I have no idea why I was even intimidated in the first place, it’s not like I ever even tried. Maybe someone told me pie crust are hard to make, don’t bother. Maybe I just came up with that on my own. Who knows?
So there, I’ve made my first pie crust from scratch. It isn’t pretty and certainly not photo worthy.
But it has my pride.
It tastes good too.
The pie filling came from a copy of Magnolia Magazine, here are the recipes. The pie crust recipe from another source – I don’t remember.
I am total gah over Our Delicious Food. The incredible beauty and artistry in each and every pie. Oh no, I’ll never make pretty like that, I don’t have the patience. I’m too hurry and get to the eating point. But oh the inspiration…
So here I am, Lusty Lavender, pie crust maker of the ordinary kind, until next time.