I don’t make apple pies very often, in fact, I thought I couldn’t make a pie to safe my life.


when I was little and we were living in chile, my mother got in her mind that she wanted to master apple pie baking, the only problem would be, she would make one pie every week for weeks on end. at the end of the trial, we were all so sick of pie that we couldn’t tell good from bad.


in my mind, my mother makes the best apple pie. maybe because she is my mother, I don’t know but they are good!






yesterday I decided to make a pie




Not bad, eh?






I also made lentils–good, there wont be any shortage in India.



My sister has always had more of a ‘gourmet’ palette than I. growing up she always made faces when it was time to eat our monday: beans or lentils, while me, I made faces too but inside I was happy it was monday.

on the flip side, my sister is today a gourmet cook while I make lentils.

The point is. as a ‘grown up’ I am starting to appreciate the little things, like making a pie, peeling a potato or cutting a squash open, not because I like peeling potatoes (who does), but because it reminds me of how good it felt to be next to the person who taught me those simple life skills.

el fin.