A crust, a crust, what a wonderful thing to lust, a perfectly fine and buttery flaky crust. To emulate the fork splashing down on the Tenderflake box, to be browned to fragrant loveliness and to be light and flavorful. Like a croissant repackaged into a rounded, ridged swimming pool holding the most delicious of summer's dark, sweet and bubbling bumbleberry bounty. To serve a pie to dear ones and to delight in its simple pleasure. Yes, yes, a pie, oh my.
Yep, I made a pie. While it was certainly a summer's delight, made even more yumchops with the billowy meltiness of homemade vanilla frozen yogurt, I only dream of making a pie as I described above. Such things come with practice, I have read! xo