My Friends Went To Spiltsville and All I Got Was This Lousy Basket

Actually, the basket it fabulous. It is hand made in some New England state and its sole purpose is to cool and transport pies. The other day I had a taken a pie somewhere, I am not sure where (funny, the things you remember and the things you don’t) and while the pie itself received rave reviews (recipe below) the basket was the topic of conversation and coveted by many. I was asked where it came from and said that friends Lord Fauntleroy and KitKat had given it to me for Christmas one year. It is now lovingly worn with blueberry stains on one leg, baked on cheese from a quiche and other assorted signs of use.

All this talk about my basket got me to thinking (dangerous at the best of times) about how things have changed since that Christmas. Lord Fauntleroy and KitKat have parted ways after a decade together. The spilt is recent and I have to wonder if our relationships will weather as well as the basket. It has been knocked around a bit, but held its own. In fact, it is better for having fulfilled its pie destiny.

I feel a bit like Karen in All About Eve as I try to re-assure myself that our little group of friends will stick together and not fall apart as is so often the case in these situations. “That won’t happen to us.” Isn’t that what they always say? More often than not, when we transition from one job to another we have the best intentions to keep in touch with those we ‘bonded’ with. One lunch, two if you’re lucky, later and you find your self running into them in a grocery store in two years time, make the same promise to keep in touch and never see the person again.

I do however, continue to hold out hope. After living in the United Arab Emirates for three years I came home to the warm embrace of the Girls in the Dollhouse, the Italian Stallion and Momo. Sorry CJ, you don’t get a mention here, you are family and can’t EVER get away.

Fast forward to next Christmas. His Lordship and KitKat have new partners. Will this equate into an awkward and stony silence around the table? With nothing but an occasional “Can I have some more turkey please?” to break the silence. Will the silver have to be chained down like they do in prison to avoid someone getting shanked? Or, will we all be able to sit around, laugh and carry on as usual? If so, where on earth will I find a table large enough to seat all these people?

Time will tell how this little drama will unfold. So far, so good. The fine traditions of Survivor and Desperate Housewives continue. Whatever the outcome, we will always have the basket.

The best darn strawberry pie ever (start with 6 cups of strawberry, hulled washed and dried):
Put 2 C. of strawberries in the bottom of a pre-baked pie shell.
Put 2 C. of strawberries in a blender with ½ C. of water and puree. Put these in a saucepan with 1 C. sugar, ¼ C. cornstarch, 1/8 Tsp of salt, 2 Tbsp of lemon juice and 2 Tbsp of butter. Bring this to a simmer and stir for 1 minute.
Pour half of this mixture over the berries in the pie shell, arrange the other 2 C. of berries on top and then top with remaining mixture.
Refrigerate the lot for 4 hours. Serve with whipped cream.