A fine pie and a stand-up guy

Two weekends ago, my husband got a call.

He learned that, after a lengthy fight with cancer, his Grandpa Lawrence had finally put up his boxing gloves and stepped into the next adventure. Lawrence was so beloved by his children that my husband, Raymond Lawrence, carries his name.

Larry carves a Thanksgiving turkey in Ulysses, Ks

By his own account, Larry, or simply "Grandpa" or "Daddy" -- that's what my in-laws and I called him -- was ready to go. He believed in God and Heaven, and would tell us that he was ready to see his wife, Wanda, who went on before him. Of course we miss him. He was Raymond's last living grandparent. Though I don't claim to have the last word on what happens when we die, I can't help but get excited about where he went.  I imagine him dancing with Wanda in a heavenly dance hall, under a glittering disco ball, while the real Hank Williams Sr. plays his favorite songs. What a party!

The photos scattered through this post came from Thanksgiving in 2006, the first time I met Grandpa Larry in person. I'd been dating his grandson for five years, and I was nervous about meeting him. He'd been a turkey farmer for much of his adult life, self-sufficient, accustomed to living a rural life in eastern Colorado. At the time, I was a student at a small liberal arts college, a practicing vegetarian, with dreams of living in a "decent-sized" city like Chicago or New York. What if he wrote me off as a crazy hippie and didn't like me? I baked a traditional-style apple pie to share, to show that even vegetarians can make Thanksgiving dishes, and we toted that pie across Kansas for the feast.

A wind farm in Kansas, west of Greensburg

Well, I needn't have worried. The pie "did just fine," but, more importantly, Larry didn't care much that I was different than him. He took a shine to me as quickly as Raymond's parents did, and we got along well. I learned that, even though he was a tough little cowpoke, he was also kind and generous. And that he loved his family and his black poodle dog, Maggie. She followed him everywhere. Larry enjoyed good jokes and home-cooked dinners, and once, when he had a windfall of money to spend, he "went crazy" and bought a brand-new toaster. What a stand-up guy. Grandpa Larry, this pie is for you. I hope you're cuttin' a rug up in Heaven.

Apple pie with cranberries

serves 6

crust:

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 1/4 cup ground flax
• 3/4 tsp. salt
• 2/3 cup cold, unsalted butter
• 8 to 10 Tb. cold water in a small bowl
  

filling:

• 6 cups thinly sliced, unpeeled Granny Smith apples
• 1 Tb. lemon juice
• 3/4 cup turbinado sugar
• 1 Tb. all-purpose flour (optional)
• 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
• 1/2 cup dried cranberries
• milk (optional) 
• sugar (optional)
• 1 large paper grocery bag
  

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees, and set a baking rack in the middle of the oven. Place the water bowl in the freezer to get good and cold. In the meantime, slice your apples thinly (I cut mine into crescents no thicker than 1/2 and inch.) Toss the apples and cranberries into a large bowl, and top the fruit with sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon, flour, and nutmeg. Use a large spoon to coat the apples evenly with the sugar mixture, and set the filling aside.

Cut the butter into small cubes, then mix the butter, flours, salt, and flax in a small bowl. Using a pastry cutter, mash the butter into the flours until the pieces are pea-sized. Sprinkle a spoonful of cold water over the dough, then toss everything gently with a fork. Repeat this process, one spoonful of water at a time, until the dough is moistened. The less you handle this dough, the flakier it will be. Divide the dough in half, and form each half into a ball.

Flatten each ball on a lightly floured surface, and roll the dough from the center to the edges into a 12" diameter circle. To transfer the dough to the pie plate, roll it gently around the rolling pin, and dust the dough occasionally with flour. Prick the bottom crust with the tines of a fork, and trim the excess dough.

Fill the pie with apple mixture, cover the pie with a blanket of dough, and cut some decorative holes in the top crust. My grandmother likes to cut her extra dough trimmings into autumn leaves. She affixes each leaf to the pie by scoring the leaf and crust, by using milk as slip, as if the pie were pottery. Trim any extra crust and brush the top of the cake with milk, then sprinkle with sugar.

This next trick comes from my father-in-law, Sam, who can bake pies and biscuits that would make Betty Crocker weep with joy: slide the entire pie into a paper bag, and lie the bag (on its side) on a cookie sheet. Gently tuck the bag top under the pie, and scoot the pie onto your prepared baking rack. Bake the pie for 40 minutes, remove the paper bag -- carefully, with potholders-- then bake the pie for 20 more minutes, until the crust is brown and the filling is bubbly.

Cool the pie on a wire rack for 20 minutes, then serve warm, with vanilla ice cream. This particular pie is excellent the next day for breakfast, served warm with a slice of cheddar cheese.