Our family likes to go camping and it just so happens that our favorite campground is located smack in the middle of an Amish community. We really enjoy seeing the horses and buggies, visiting the Amish grocery and learning about their culture. (My kids are simply fascinated by a life without technology.)
Each Saturday morning, two lovely Amish gals sell baked goods at the campground. A few weeks ago, I took one of my 11 year-old twin daughters with me to peruse the bakery.
As expected, there were all sorts of cakes, cookies and breads and everything looked delicious. Having spent my last bit of folding money on firewood and ice the night before, I had but one $5 bill to spend at the bake sale -- very disappointing since I spied several pies at the end of the table that would likely be out of my price range.
"Don't they take plastic?" my daughter asked as we stood in the long line of hungry campers.
"Nope," I responded, reminding her of the whole no technology thing. "These ladies don't have electricity in their homes, so they don't carry portable card scanners either."
Eventually the line began moving and we found ourselves at the front of the table, where I could study the pies.
It was easy to tell the different varieties. The bakers had cut slits for venting steam in the shape of various letters -- P for peach, A for apple. You just had to look at the golden brown crust to know which was which.
I was disappointed (but not surprised) to see the pies were out of my $5 price range, so we settled on a bag of maple rolls thinking they'd accompany our campfire breakfast of eggs and hash well.
Knowing the Amish are master bakers, I couldn't resist the urge to ask about the pies. Surely these pious ladies would be willing to share a pie-making tip or two with a newbie like me.
"Your pies look amazing. I'm new to pie making. Can you tell me, what's your secret for a good pie?"
The ladies looked at each other, surprised by my question. The younger one thought for a moment before giving her reply.
"Well," she said. "I suppose it's the lard. Good, cold lard makes the best crust."
I thanked her as we handed over the $5.
At that point, my daughter piped up.
"She's trying to win a contest," she said.
The ladies looked at each other in slight surprise. Obviously they don't want their Amish pie secrets used to clean house at a community baking contest.
I grabbed my daughter by the arm and yanked her away from the table, embarrassed.
"Thank you, we can't wait to dig into these rolls!" I called over my shoulder as we hurried back to our campsite.
At breakfast, we tasted the rolls. They were good, but crazy rich, making them a little hard to eat. I'm certain they were made with loads of butter and most likely a scoop or two of lard.
While I didn't get a chance to taste the lard-laden pie, it was helpful to study the golden crust and picture-perfect crimpped edges -- details I've filed away to refine my own technique.
I'm glad there are no Amish competitors in the Fourth of July pie baking contest -- not that contests are really their thing. And even if they were, beating the Yoder girl wouldn't be as satisfying, I'm sure.
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