Frosty Freezer Pie

I made taco soup on Monday and froze five bags of it, because taco soup is the patron saint of Larson dinners and I will not apologize for the repetition. The week was a fall week, the kind where the light through the kitchen window arrives at a particular angle and the freezer hums in a different register depending on the temperature in the garage. I made notes in my prep notebook on Sunday afternoon, the way I always do: meal name, ingredient list, cost per serving, prep time, freezer instructions. Twenty-eight bags. Two hours and eleven minutes. A little slow this week, by my standards, but Brandon was helping and the conversation was good, and I have learned, slowly and against my own grain, that the conversation is sometimes the point and the time is sometimes a courtesy I extend to my husband for being willing to chop onions on a Sunday afternoon.

Brandon golfed Saturday morning, attended his executive secretary meeting Sunday morning, and did the dishes Wednesday night, which is the rhythm of our life now. We have been married a long time. The arithmetic of it is the arithmetic of my whole life. There were years we missed each other in the same room, and there are years we find each other in the silences, and this is one of the latter, and I am old enough now to know that the latter is the achievement and the former was the cost.

The recipe of the week was penne with sausage, which I have made some specific number of times in my life and have refined to a system that I now hand to other people in printed form. The version I made this week fed eight, cost under fifteen dollars, and required twenty-six minutes of active prep, which is within my requirements and not a coincidence. Sunday prep is twenty-eight bags. I time myself. The accountant never leaves. I have stopped explaining the freezer-meal philosophy to people who already follow my work, and I have stopped apologizing for it to people who do not. The philosophy is simple: tomorrow is coming whether you are ready or not. You can either be ready or not. I pick ready.

The children are doing what they do, which is the central report of every week of my adult life. Ethan is 21, in Manila on his mission, and his last email mentioned a chicken adobo so good he is going to make me make it when he comes home. Olivia is 19, at BYU studying elementary education — the path she chose at age seven and has not deviated from once. Mason, 16, is in Brazil on his mission. His weekly emails are short and full of jokes. He does not write much about the work. He writes about the food. Lily is 15, in high school, asking the kind of questions in Sunday School that make the teachers uncomfortable, which I find difficult and also, secretly, admirable. Noah is 12, the comedian, the performer — the kid who does an impression of my disappointed face in front of company, and gets away with it. That is the family report. I do not have a system for these reports. I just listen and remember and call back when I said I would call back, which is most of the time and not all of the time, and the difference between most and all is the territory of motherhood.

I will close the laptop in a moment. I will go to bed. I will get up tomorrow. The freezer will be there. The photograph will be there. The work will be there. So will I.

The penne with sausage was the savory work of the week — measured, timed, printed and handed off the way I hand everything off when I’ve gotten it right. But somewhere between the twenty-eighth bag and bedtime, I wanted something that required nothing of me except pulling it out of the freezer, and this pie is exactly that: made ahead, waiting patiently, unbothered. It felt appropriate. The freezer hums. So does a good marriage, and sometimes the whole point is that something reliable is already there when you need it.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 20 minutes (includes freezing) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 pre-made graham cracker pie crust (9-inch)
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8 oz frozen whipped topping (such as Cool Whip), thawed, divided
1 cup crushed pineapple, well drained
1/2 cup maraschino cherries, drained and roughly chopped
1/2 cup chopped pecans or walnuts (optional)
Maraschino cherries and additional whipped topping for garnish

Instructions

Beat the base. In a large bowl, beat the softened cream cheese with an electric mixer until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add powdered sugar and vanilla extract and beat until fully combined and creamy.
Fold in the filling. Gently fold in 6 oz (about 3/4 of the container) of the thawed whipped topping until just combined — do not overmix. Stir in the drained crushed pineapple, chopped cherries, and nuts if using.
Fill the crust. Spoon the filling evenly into the graham cracker crust and smooth the top with a spatula.
Top and freeze. Spread or dollop the remaining whipped topping over the surface. Garnish with additional maraschino cherries if desired. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and freeze for at least 4 hours, or overnight.
Serve. Remove the pie from the freezer 10 minutes before slicing to allow it to soften slightly. Slice into 8 wedges and serve directly from the freezer.

Nutrition (per serving)

Frosty Freezer Pie — Because the Freezer Is Always Ready, Even When You Are Not