For the love of a fresh summer peach pie

If there is one thing that I remember most about my Grandma Cisterino it is her pies. Not just pies. Piessssssssssss. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh. Something about that flaky, @Crisco crust. A perfect balance of anything hidden under its blanket of warmth. Fillings that always began from a canned jar of hand picked magic - fresh apples or cherries. That we would pick as a family. And that she would peel and pit by hand into the wee hours to follow. She was a pie baker. The Grandmother of all pie bakers. A destination for anyone who knew her cooking. She always made enough for the family and a straggler. I want my kids and grandkids to remember me that way, too. I do not remember her making too many peach

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