Cranberry Pie in time for Thanksgiving

Way back in the day I used to write out recipes completely. Every word. Sure teaspoon would be abbreviated t, but that was as far as it went. Back in the day I used to own a printer, for a few months recipes were printed and scanned from books — it was a combo printer — then it broke. Years of cooking and reading recipes later I can rarely be bothered to write much of anything. Whenever I try and get the dining tables’ clutter under control I find cryptographic notes written on scraps of paper. Knowing if the recipe should be kept or even what it makes is something of a guess that isn’t always worth being made.

The complete recipes have stayed with me through years and moves and impulsive get-rid-ofs. These notes rarely have the same nostalgia. The scraps, being scraps, are less worthy of being saved. “Nyah, could probably find this again” or “wasn’t this just like that other one” I think before tossing it into the recycling. Truthfully, often it only gets as far as the “to recycle” pile on the table.

The memory is important for the person who is about food related to life.

The Cranberry Pie (crostata) is one of the few recipes from printer days. Not only is it printed and saved, but it even has notes to myself. Besides the first date it was made (yes, sometimes I am compulsively organized) is a threat to myself against ever making the crust because it’s soft and difficult to work with and only someone much more trained than I could get it looking really good.

I didn’t listen to my threats.

I also haven’t followed through on the threat. What kind of example am I setting for myself?

The inside is so cheerily red, so deliciously sweet and tart and the crust so deeply almond-y, threats couldn’t compete. I made it again – last year. And snapped a picture in order to, for once, get a Thanksgiving post up before the holiday. It’s just eight days away and this is the only bit of planning I’ve managed. That deserves a reward.

Cranberry Pie
I did not want to type out this whole recipe and does the internet really need another page with an almost the same recipe? I think not. Instead I did some searching (my printout didn’t include the source) and found the original recipe on epicurious. Click over to this site and then pretend you’re me while making it in order to get the correct “adapted from” version. For instance: I don’t have an 1/8 teaspoon measure. Measuring zest takes too long. I would never create another dish to wash in order to cool the filling quickly. Fairly certain I haven’t included the salt in the filling because it isn’t in the ingredient list. We might also assume that I never remember to sprinkle the top with sugar.

And last, I took the picture last year, but I didn’t write any baking notes, so it’s all a memory guess anyway. It’s the holidays after all – have fun!

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