At the dawning of spring, I was exposed to something that made me consider catching religion. Amish to be precise. Yes, those who live the simple life - a life of buttons, butter churns and buggies. Besides being renowned for their furniture making skills, they are also freaking masters of baked goods, including the pie that took me to flavour heaven.
One of the guests at my friend Katie's Vernal Equinox party brought a peach pie procured from his Amish neighbours. After a brief warming up in the oven, we sliced that puppy up and distributed among the party goers. Oh. Em. Gee. I'm generally not a big pie fan, but holy hell, this thing made a convert out of me.
The pie filling was bursting with plump sweet slices of peach floating in a silky egg custard. Good god I love custard. The contrast of the fluffy custard with the oh so slightly firm fruit was fantastic in my mouth. To say nothing of the pastry. Sweet jebus the pastry. It was so light and flaky - a textbook perfect pastry whose success I put down to the inclusion of lard, which the Amish render themselves. Just further proof that the greatness of any dish begins with the quality of ingredients you use.
I'm not gonna lie. I paid a hefty premium to the guy to have two of these delivered for me the next time he was in the city, but I gladly paid it. At $10 for a 10-inch pie, I consider it money more than well spent. We'll just call the markup a delivery fee. I can't wait until the summer fruit season really gets going here in Ontario, because I'll definitely be ordering more pies from the Amish neighbours. God bless 'em.