Portal is about 9 blocks long and actually is located on both sides of the border, with North Portal being the Canadian end of town. There is even a golf course there that crosses both countries. But we didn’t play golf in Portal. We stopped for lunch.
We stopped at the kind of local diner you’d expect in a town of less than 150 people. Everyone knew everyone else except us and the food was great. I can’t even remember what I ate, but it was so good that I was full before the waitress asked if we wanted dessert. We were about to say No, when she said those three magic words, "We Have Pie."
We bolted to the pie display and decided to take 2 pieces of rhubarb pie with us. After crossing the border somewhat uneventfully into Canada we drove on. (Okay, the guard wanted to know why we were going into Canada. When I said “for our honeymoon” the guard wanted to know why our last names were different. She seemed skeptical when I said I wasn’t changing my name. But she did not ask us if we had any contraband rhubarb from the diner, and she did let us into the country.)
About an hour or two into the afternoon, we broke out the first piece of pie. I can tell you I had never ever tasted rhubarb pie that good in my life. The two pieces didn’t last long. And when we got back to Chicago after our trip, I decided I wanted to learn to make a really good rhubarb pie, too.
I started collecting recipes. I asked my Aunt Barbara for hers and she sent it to me. I looked in all the cookbooks I could find, and checked some out from the library. For some reason I just didn’t think any of them looked right. So Larry got on the phone.
His plan was to call the restaurant in Portal, but we couldn’t remember the name of it. He called information and asked for the phone number of the Chamber of Commerce in Portal, ND. He got the number and called them. I remember thinking, how could a town that small actually have a Chamber of Commerce? When the phone rang, the Portal Police answered. Did that stop Larry? Did he think that perhaps the police might have something better to do than help him track down the number of a restaurant so we could steal her pie recipe? No, and the policeman was friendly and glad to oblige. He knew exactly which diner we were talking about (well, there’s probably only one) and the name of the owner/pie baker we needed to ask for. He gave us the number, and Larry called. He told the owner our story and he promised never to open a restaurant selling pie nearby to compete and then the woman gave him her secret.
“I use the recipe in the Betty Crocker Cookbook. And I use the lesser amount of sugar.”
Well. The BCCookbook has been in my kitchen since before time began. Really. Look, here’s what mine looks like:
It's been around the block a few times. And has been lovingly annointed with precious oils:
1 comment:
Thank you for the pie plate, and for teaching me how to make pie crust. I will need another lesson, as I am cooking-challenged.
And thank you for the phrase "anointed with precious oils." Rhubarb pie for communion!
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