"When there are no words..."

Where I'm from, people respond to tragedy with food. There are those times in life when there's nothing you can say, nothing you can do to take the pain away from people around you. There are natural disasters, illnesses and deaths that can't be made to hurt less, that can't be explained away. You can't say, "It'll get better," because it won't. Some people respond with prayer, by sending cards, by expressing condolences, but I generally bring a pie.

About a year ago I found out that one of my co-workers was in the hospital. There were dark whispers that it was serious, maybe even life threatening. He had the best in medical care, his community rallied around him and his family. Like many of the people I work with, I did what I could to help. I brought a pie. But, pie or not, brain cancer gets most people in the end.  

I don't want to over-estimate my relationship with my co-worker. I don't know I would have called him my friend. We talked when we were at work, talked loosely about politics and the commute, about raising kids and the way our workplace has changed over his career. But if I had a party, I probably wouldn't have invited him; likewise if the roles were reversed I wouldn't have been upset if he didn't invite me. We were very different in age, lived on opposite sides of a large metro area, worked in different sections on the job.

At his memorial service, people talked eloquently about him and his life. They talked about his ever-present smile and his ability to talk to just about anyone. But the man that sticks with me was the last to speak. He had come to our area to start a coffee business, but didn't know where to start. My co-worker knew someone selling a coffee roaster and encouraged this man to buy it and chase his dream. According to this guy, he was reluctant, but bought it anyway. He's still in business. Can you have a greater impact on someone than helping them achieve their dream?

Ken died too young, too early, while most people are thinking about what comes next in life. When I'm as old as he was when he died, I'll have kids in college, maybe thinking about marriage and kids of their own. When is a "good" age to die? Does it exist? Is there a point when people say, "Well, I've done what I wanted to, seen what I've wanted to see, and I can go in peace now?" From where I am right now, that place seems hard to imagine. I know that Ken wasn't done, hadn't seen what he wanted to see, I don't know if he was at peace.

And yet, when something comes along as inexplicable as cancer, you want to reach out to his family. For comforting, creamy goodness, this is just unbeatable. It's not as intensely peanut butter flavored as some Peanut Butter Pies, but it's really, really good. For a long time, I thought that my mother made up this recipe, but I recently got a meal at a restaurant near my parent's home, and they made Peanut Butter Pie the same way my mother did. So, whether she made it up or not, here's the way my mom made peanut butter pie.

Peanut Butter Pie

Crust:

1 ⅔ C. instant flour (such as Wondra)

7 Tbsp. + 1 ½ tsp. butter-flavored shortening

1 tsp. salt

2 scant tsp. nonfat dry milk powder

1 ½ tsp. light corn syrup

1 tsp. apple cider vinegar

¼ C. + 2 tsp. water

Process the flour and the shortening in a food processor until crumbly, rather worked in.

Pre-heat your oven to 350°.

In a measuring cup, stir together the salt, nonfat dry milk, corn syrup, vinegar, and water. Add this liquid to the flour mixture a little at a time, processing well after each addition. Process until the dough comes together.  I've found that it remains crumbly, and needs to be pressed together.

Roll out the crust between two pieces of parchment paper.  Fit it into a pie pan, make the edges look pretty, and bake about 25 minutes until crisp.  Remove from the oven and cool.

Peanut Butter Crumbles

¼ C. creamy peanut butter
¼ C. powdered sugar

Work together until you end up with BB sized balls of peanut butter crumbles.  They should not be sticky.  If you need to, you can add a little more powdered sugar.  Scatter about half in the bottom of the cooked pie crust.

Pastry Cream

⅓ C. sugar
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
1 C. 1% milk
½ C. light cream
5 egg yolks
1 ½ tsp. vanilla

In a saucepan, whisk together the sugar, salt, and cornstarch. In a small bowl whisk together the egg yolks.

In a small saucepan, combine the milk and the cream and bring to a simmer. Whisk the simmering milk mixture into the cornstarch mixture. Heat the milk/cornstarch mixture over medium heat, whisking constantly, until it boils. (It doesn't need to boil much. Watch for a bubble to break the surface, set a timer for minute, whisking constantly. When the timer goes off, go on to the next step.)

Carefully drip about a quarter of the milk mixture into the egg yolks, whisking the eggs constantly. Pour the egg/milk mixture into the saucepan with the remaining milk mixture in it, whisking constantly. Cook over medium heat until the mixture boils. (Same as above, watch for a bubble then cook another minute.)

Remove from the heat and whisk in the vanilla.

Pour through a strainer into the crust, distribute evenly, trying not to disturb the peanut butter crumbles.

Whipped Cream

1 C. heavy cream
3 Tbsp. powdered sugar
1 tsp. vanilla

Whip the cream to soft peaks, then add the powdered sugar and the vanilla.  Put on top of the pastry cream.  My mom was never fussy with how it looked (I mean that in the best possible way, mom!) so don't spend too much time on it.  Sprinkle the remaining peanut butter crumbles on top of the whipped cream, cover and refrigerate until set, probably a couple of hours.