Back Pages: Josie and the Pie, with Diamonds
Feb 23rd, 2009 by Marilyn
The Simmer Till Done management and advisory board – that would be me – is on a special-projects work break, so please enjoy these posts from the past, especially if they’re new to you. And if you have a rerun request, by all means send it along.
First up: from July 2008, it’s a tale many have seen before, but it’s Josie’s choice – her victorious day of diamonds, pie, and the thrill of being right.
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Every August, the heat here ceases to be punishing heat and becomes cruelly disciplined heat. That is our signal to escape – we flee Kansas by driving straight through an Iowa haze, further north by the hour, looking for a lake. When we finally stop in Duluth, Minnesota, we cross a bridge that skims the long blue curve of Lake Superior, and I can taste the woods. I remember what it means to like summer.
We will spend the night there, happy to swim, nibble fudge, and watch the aerial bridge rise and fall in the dark. The next morning we’ll take off on Highway 61 for a three-hour drive to the northern lodge we love, and on the way up, as sure as smoked fish and smooth agates, we’ll roll through Two Harbors and stop at Betty’s Pies.
Betty’s is a tradition we share with thousands of families, fishermen, leaf-peepers, canoers, kayakers, truck drivers and rock hounds. They all love Minnesota, they all love pie, and since 1958 they’ve come to Betty’s counter for giant slices of Bumble Berry, 5-Layer Chocolate and Lemon Angel pie.
Now I am a most dedicated pie eater, but the slices are huge, and often follow a late Betty’s breakfast of scrambled eggs, thick ham and fresh-baked raisin rye toast. So first, I think of the road ahead. I check my purse for Maalox. I look at the daily pie board before breakfast, weigh the consequences, and decide.
But my daughter – well, Josie has jackrabbit metabolism and her father’s iron stomach. It seems impossible, but we created an even more devout servant of the pie than me. She runs into Betty’s, Lake Superior across the road. “Look at the lake!” I yell, but she’s already slammed the screen door, scanning the board for raspberry, huckleberry, every berry.
At the table, I encourage a split – come on, the slices are so big - until she gives in, sulking. After that, each bite is watched and the forks move fast. This much-hated splitting makes me the pie Scrooge every time.
Except one time.
I’d been hearing some vague backseat crabbiness since we packed up and left Duluth that morning. I’m bored, I’m hungry, I’m hot. I’m cold, I’m bored, I’m sitting on something. I flicked my head up from my book. Greg was still staring at the road, he’d heard nothing. I’m sitting on something.
“No, you’re not.” I kept reading.
“I am sitting on something. I am sitting on something and it’s bothering me.” Now she was a faint buzz.
“No, you are not.”
This went on. Sitting, bothering, blah blah blah. Once in a while I’d humor her.
“Maybe it’s a ponytail holder.” No. “An eraser.” No. Now crabbing in earnest, she says it feels like a rock. Bothering me!
Then, silence. “I got it.” Whew!
“It looks like a diamond.”
Mm. Boy, the trees are tall. Greg, still in highway hypnosis.
She keeps at it. “It looks like…I think it’s a diamond.”
“Mm-hm. A diamond, under your shorts. Whatever.”
I thought nothing of it for exactly six more minutes – and then a wild thought commanded me to look at my hand. Wedding band – check. Engagement ring –
I whipped off my seat belt and spun around. On my finger, the engagement ring I’d worn since 1992 sat prongless and empty – but in Josie’s little palm, glinting with cartoon sunlight, was my diamond. Oh. My. God.
“It was a diamond, it was a diamond, I TOLD you.” And it was. Somewhere between Lawrence, Kansas and Duluth, Minnesota, the little rock had taken a tumble. It could have been on the highway, under the wheels or at the bottom of a rest stop toilet, but it was in my daughter’s vindicated and beaming hand.
I was so happy. So happy that something most unpleasant, something I didn’t even know had happened – a real vacation-ruiner, an insurance hassle and certainly a weeper – was already solved. We were all three smiling and gaping at the tiny miracle of Josie sitting on a diamond.
I tucked it into a zipped pocket of my makeup bag, which I never touch by the lake. It would sit there safe until we got back, and all week I felt like a nervous jewel thief – but we had a bang-up time, starting right after the incident with a stop at Betty’s Pies.
Josie’s reward was humble, but divine – her very own, no-split, enormous piece of Bumble Berry. That’s Betty’s special four-berry mix, a juicy heap under flaky crust. Such a small prize – but who doesn’t love the halo of good deeds, the thrill of being right, and a great big piece of lakeside pie?
original post found here
Bumble Berry Pie
from The Original Betty’s Pies Favorite Recipes Cookbook
pie dough, enough for a 10-inch two-crust pie
1 cup blueberries
1 cup blackberries
1 cup raspberries
1 cup strawberries
1 cup sugar
5 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons corn starch
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Preheat oven to 375 F.
Line a 10-inch pie pan with crust.
Combine the sugar, flour, corn starch and cinnamon, and mix well. Lightly mix in the fresh fruit and pour into the pie shell.
Dot with butter and cover with a top crust. Prick the crust and sprinkle with sugar.
Bake for about 50 minutes in a regular oven, about 35 in a convection oven; until juices are thick and bubbling from golden crust.
Wow, Josie sure earned that reward! I must say, the photos of this pie are so beautiful I’m tempted to frame them and hang them on my wall.
I admit it, I clicked the link to Betty’s Pies. They are shippable
I feel a purchase in my future—although it just may be a copy of that book.
I am a fruit pie junky. That pie looks simply amazing and I will have to give it a shot sometime soon. Any good/easy recipes for crust? I need very specific instructions, and photos would be even better! Pie crust is one that that always eludes me. Mine always ends up tough and gross. Sorry to be barking out all of these orders – and when you’re on a break, even!
I don’t know how I missed this post the first time around. Mmmmm Betty’s Pies. Hubby and I got engaged in Duluth so it has a VERY special place in my heart. The area is magical with the lake and all the natural beauty. We rented a little cabin across the road from the lake and it was great waking up each morning looking at the water sparkle and shimmer. Aaaah memories- thanks for bringing some of them back!
Thanks so much for jogging my memory of this restaurant. When the heat gets intense in inland Southern California, we, too, have headed for Duluth and parts north (Grand Marais, Ely).
I once bought slices of pie from Betty’s to travel with us to Sawbill Lake. What an indulgence, so far from civilization, to dig into that pie!
that’s my favorite post and my favorite quote…“I am sitting on something. I am sitting on something and it’s bothering me.” I can just hear her saying that, too!
Sigh…..I did just see George Clooney on tv……in a tuxedo though…….
This is one of my favorite posts, and for the reason PVS said–that Josie quote is priceless!
oh,this is a good one..and bumbleberry…favorite!!
I love this story. Thanks for posting it again. It’s such a nice reminder of summer vacations, lazy days, berries, pies. I can’t wait!
Seeing the photo of the fruit, those psychedelic colors (that go perfectly with your headline), I almost felt hopeful over here on the NY/MA border, where winter just won’t let go. Thanks for the beacon.
I enjoyed this post (for the first time) and immediately starred it so I can make this when berries are back in season. Which seems like an eternity from this bleak D.C. February…
better than the princess and the pea. Back in the days of horse boarding, I once helped someone sift the uh, compost pile, searching for her lost family heirloom engagement diamond. No happy ending for her.
Last week I savored the bounty of the North Shore: pasties at Duluth Grill, Russ Kendall’s smoked lake trout, and Betty’s Pies. A culinary tri-fecta. We didn’t have a bad meal the entire trip. I ate cinnamon roll French toast, a lot of corned beef hash, an open-faced meat loaf sandwich smothered in gravy, and lemon ricotta pancakes. However, as you know, the cool weather trumped all the meals we enjoyed.
This spring I lost my wedding ring. Two months later while camping my daughter found the ring tucked away snug in a sleeping bag. The ring had slipped off my finger the last time I stowed the sleeping bag away.