Can She Make a Cherry Pie, Charming Billy?*

Can you smell the cherry filling and the golden-brown butter dough?

It's 3:23 p.m. on Friday, a blue-sky summer day. Yesterday, Dan and I came over to this house, owned by his brother John in Belfast, Maine. Right on the coast. The bay is at the foot of the hill. 

We picked cherries (pie cherries, sour cherries) from his 40-year-old cherry tree and pitted them. It was an old-time chore, and it was nourishing. It felt like time stood still. 

Felt like we three were quilting together around a table, though not out on the prairie. We talked as we pitted dozens of pretty red globes. We talked about the milk delivered in glass bottles that the Hurleys got in Teaneck before their parents divorced, when money got tight. As the youngest of five brothers, Dan did not remember the milkbox. But as the oldest, John did.

Then today, when all of the Hurley brothers went for a walk at 1 p.m., I came back over to bake a cherry pie--actually two, since we picked enough for double.

John has turned to the recipe for Fresh Cherry Pie from The Joy of Cooking, a golden source for everything. But I used Melissa Clark's New York Times version from 2023, adding a little capful of almond extract.

This morning, I met my sister-in-law Sheila at the outdoor Belfast Farmers' Market (since 1980). I got a sweet-smelling sweet pea bouquet plus red and rainbow beets from New Beat Farm and a cucumber and cream cheese bagel sandwich from Spark Bagel (that had a very long line). Also: Hibiscus Rose Iced Tea, very good. I'm still nursing it.

I love these simple pleasures. For an extra $2, I purchased a small mason jar to ferry the sweet peas back to New Jersey tomorrow.

The jury is still out on how the pie will taste. The crust looks a bit too browned and hard but oh well. Melissa Clark suggests serving with whipped cream or ice cream.

I hope you can breathe in some simple joys. And I hope I can continue to do so once I return home.

*From an old English nursery song. Song lyrics here.