We went to Maine for our summer vacation. I think I would like to live in Maine--with all of its quaint hamlets and bucolic scenes. On entering Maine, guests are met with a sign: The Way Life Should Be. I wholeheartedly concur.
Two weeks post vacation and I am starting to forget the not so great aspects of the trip: the 4+ days (of 7 total for the vacation) of driving; Finn's inability to sleep, subsequent exhaustion, and croup; and Finn's five days of post-vacation demonic rage before transforming back into our nice little boy. Instead I am reminiscing on the smell of the salty sea water, the feel of the breeze, the feel of sand between my fingers, and the great view of the harbor outside our hotel window.
However, there remains one aspect of vacation where I still feel considerably short changed: the chance to indulge in my new found love of blueberries. (I know! It has taken me 30-odd years to get here!) Every restaurant in Maine boasts of blueberry pie, blueberry muffins, blueberry pancakes. All deadly to a poor Celiac like myself. One of the first things I had Mr. F. make on returning home was blueberry pancakes. These to be exact. They were wonderful, but not enough to soothe my wounded soul.
I have a friend who is from Maine. On one of his trips back home with his wife, they stopped at Moody's Diner--a Maine Icon. He looked at the menu, trying to decide which menu item would best represent all that Moody's and Maine had to offer for his wife to try. The 4-berry pie? The blueberry pancakes? He finally decided on the pie. He watched her as she ate. You see, he is also Celiac and can no longer partake of Moody's finest.
I was determined to see Moody's on our trip up north. I wanted to the full Maine experience. (And I wanted this t-shirt).
We didn't have a lot of time to spend as we had a full day's worth of driving and a very fractious child, but we determined that we had time for pie (and isn't there always time for pie?) I watched as Mr. F. bit into the flaky crust, the dark, ruby juices spilling forth.
Lady Susan: Well?
Mr. F.: Oh! This is horrible pie. Horrible.
He then proceeded to gobble up said pie with extreme alacrity. His enthusiasm made me suspicious.
Lady Susan: You can tell me your honest opinion. I won't be sad. Well.....not too sad.
Mr. F.: This is one of the best pies I have had in a long, long time.
Can you see where this is going? I felt like I needed to have 4-Berry Pie if my Maine experience was going to be complete. This weekend I finally made it.
It was divine. It was worth the three days that it took to finally complete the project (Day 1: Crust. Day 2: Drain frozen berries. Day 3: Assemble and bake pie. Baking is hard with a toddler. Especially one that doesn't want mama to do anything besides Play! With! Me!) I asked Mr. F. how it compared to the famous Moody's pie......as you might guess, Moody's was still the preferred pie. He did graciously conceded mine was pretty good too. (It was good enough for him to eat his half!) Obviously, though, I have some more baking to do. Mmmm. Pie.