By August and the retirement thought has become a retirement conversation. I talked to David about it on the phone — not asking for permission, because I am sixty-four years old and I do not need my son's permission, but asking for his assessment, his doctor-son-accountant-father-hybrid assessment of whether the finances work, whether the timing makes sense, whether Ruth Feldman at sixty-five can leave the classroom and survive without it. David said, "Mom, you've been teaching for forty-two years. You can retire whenever you want." I said, "I don't want to. That's the problem. I want to keep going. But I don't know if I can keep going and take care of your father." The sentence sat between us on the phone line. The two things — teaching and caregiving — compete for the same hours, the same energy, the same Ruth, and there is not enough Ruth for both. There has not been enough Ruth for both since the diagnosis, but I have been pretending otherwise, and the pretending is getting harder, and the hardest thing about the retirement thought is not the leaving — it's the admitting, the admitting that I cannot do everything, that I am not infinite, that the woman who has done everything for forty years has reached the edge of everything and needs to choose.
I did not make a decision. I made a pie. Apple pie — Granny Smiths, peeled and sliced thin, layered with cinnamon and brown sugar and a squeeze of lemon, under a lattice crust that I wove with the particular care of a woman who needs something to braid, to weave, to construct, when the larger construction of her life is under negotiation. The pie was perfect. The lattice was tight. The decision is pending. But the pie is done, and the pie being done is proof that I can still complete things, even when the largest thing — the question of what to do with the rest of my life — remains beautifully, terrifyingly open.
I realize the pie I described was apple, but apple pie and I have an understanding by now — I know exactly how it turns out, and what I needed that afternoon was something slightly less certain, something with a little more brightness and surprise, something that still required my full attention. This glazed pineapple pie is what I make when I need a project that asks something of me. The glaze at the end feels like a reward for finishing, and some days, finishing anything at all is the point.
Contest-Winning Glazed Pineapple Pie
Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 45 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 2 unbaked 9-inch pie crusts (homemade or store-bought)
- 2 cans (20 oz each) crushed pineapple, undrained
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 cup cornstarch
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 egg, beaten
- 1 tablespoon cold water
- For the glaze: 3/4 cup powdered sugar
- 2–3 tablespoons reserved pineapple juice or whole milk
- 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
Instructions
- Preheat and prepare. Preheat oven to 400°F. Drain the crushed pineapple over a bowl, pressing lightly to release juice. Reserve 3 tablespoons of the juice for the glaze. Fit one pie crust into a 9-inch pie plate and refrigerate while you prepare the filling.
- Make the filling. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine the drained pineapple, sugar, cornstarch, and salt. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens and begins to bubble, about 8–10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the butter, lemon juice, and vanilla until the butter is fully melted. Let cool for 15 minutes.
- Assemble the pie. Pour the cooled filling into the chilled bottom crust. Roll out the second crust and cut into 3/4-inch strips. Weave the strips into a lattice pattern over the filling, pressing the edges to seal, then crimp or flute the border.
- Apply egg wash and bake. Whisk together the beaten egg and cold water. Brush the lattice and crimped edges evenly with the egg wash. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet and bake at 400°F for 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 350°F and bake an additional 28–32 minutes, until the crust is deep golden and the filling is bubbling through the lattice.
- Cool completely. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and cool for at least 2 hours before glazing. The filling must be fully set before the glaze is applied.
- Make the glaze. Whisk together the powdered sugar, reserved pineapple juice (or milk), and vanilla until smooth and pourable. Drizzle over the cooled pie in a slow, steady back-and-forth motion across the lattice. Let the glaze set for 20 minutes before slicing.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 420 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 71g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 280mg