Some days you just need pie. (Not that I would turn down a polka dot elephant bringing me pie, but I'd be OK with just pie.)
I had that kind of day last week.
I just needed a homemade pie.
It was just the kind of day that needed apple pie.
My mother had foreseen that this day might come, so she made sure I packed a pastry cutter in among the various kitchen utensils I brought.
The various people who've lived in this same apartment over the years have been so kind as to accumulate a collection of dishes and kitchen tools--including a pie dish and a rolling pin.
The produce lady at the corner sells apples. There are only two varieties here in Nigeria; gala and golden delicious. Neither one of them is a great apple for pie, nor are they cheap at
N200 ($0.50) each, but they work.
I may not understand Nigerian culture and customs, but I understand baking. I may not be able to read in Hausa yet, but I can follow a recipe. And when my brain is fried from culture adjustment, there's something comforting about knowing that the recipe for "double-crust pastry" from Better Homes & Gardens red and white plaid cookbook is going to work.
It was a good day for pie crust. Maybe it had to do with it being hot season and being 93* in my house, even with the fan going. Maybe it had to do with the Nigerian flour that always seems to need an extra 1/4c of liquid in any baking recipe. Maybe it was the Simas. Maybe God just knew I needed something to come out correctly.
It was delicious.