Strawberry Rhubarb Pie

Last radiation session was Tuesday. Sean walked in. Sean walked out. Dr. Kalb's technician said "good luck, Sean." Sean said "thank you." He handed the mask back. They take the mask. The mask does not go home with you. Sean joked about wanting a souvenir, and the tech laughed, and that was the exit. Thirty sessions done. The body part is over. The chemo alone continues for up to twelve months of cycles after a one-month break. The first break has started. He has two weeks off before the first post-radiation cycle.

Thanksgiving was in our house. My mother arrived Wednesday morning with a car full of food. She cooked for the next thirty hours. I assisted. Sean sat in the kitchen on a stool and watched and occasionally chopped, slowly, when his hands wanted to work. He was here. He was present. He was my mother's son-in-law and he was at the table Thursday at 2 PM with twenty people and he carved the turkey because he had decided that was the last thing he wanted to do that he was going to do this year. My father handed him the knife. Sean carved. He cut beautifully. The table was silent. When he finished, he put the knife down and sat down, and my father said grace, and we ate.

Twenty at the table. My parents, Grace (Sean's mother, driven down by Sean's sister), Sean's sister, Patrick and Colleen and Sean III, Meghan and Brian and Aidan, Danny (down from New London), Linda (I had invited her — Linda is family now), Father Donnelly (who drove up from Southie for the blessing and stayed), a couple of neighbors of my parents who had nowhere to be and whom my mother had adopted, and the four of us. The turkey was a twenty-four pounder. My mother had brought two pies, I had baked three, Grace had brought two. There were seven pies. There are always seven pies at a Donovan Thanksgiving. The seven-pie rule is non-negotiable.

I had asked everyone to share one thing they were grateful for. My father went first. He said "my family." He did not say more. That was the whole answer. My mother said "my kids and my grandkids and this table." Grace said "Sean." She said his name and then she did not say anything else and no one needed her to. Patrick said "the fact that my son is eight months old and eats everything he's given." Colleen said "Patrick." Liam said "my truck." Aidan said "my truck." Meghan said "my sister." I said my sister. Meghan and I had independently said the same thing in the same minute and the room laughed, and Meghan reached across the table and squeezed my hand and did not let go for about thirty seconds. Sean said last. He said "this table. This family. Every one of you. Every single one of you." Father Donnelly crossed himself. My mother wept.

Nora said "turkey." Nora was grateful for the turkey. Everyone applauded. She beamed.

Sean lasted until 8 PM. He slept hard that night. I washed dishes until midnight with my mother and Grace and Meghan. Meghan kept me laughing the whole time. My mother's tea was on the stove. The house was clean by 12:30. I got into bed. Sean was asleep. I slept too. Six hours. A full Thanksgiving.

The seven-pie rule has always been my mother’s doing, but the baking is distributed — she brought two, Grace brought two, and I was responsible for three. I made this strawberry rhubarb the day before everyone arrived, while Sean slept and the house was quiet, and I needed something to do with my hands. It’s the pie I make when I need to feel like I’m doing something useful. That Wednesday it was exactly the right thing.

Prep Time: 30 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 25 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 prepared pie crusts (homemade or store-bought), divided
2 1/2 cups fresh or frozen rhubarb, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
2 1/2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and halved
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
1 tablespoon coarse sugar (for topping)

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Fit one pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish and refrigerate while you prepare the filling.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, combine the rhubarb, strawberries, granulated sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, vanilla extract, and salt. Toss well to coat and let sit for 10 minutes to allow the juices to begin releasing.
Fill the crust. Pour the fruit filling into the chilled pie crust, mounding it slightly in the center. Dot the top of the filling evenly with the small pieces of butter.
Add the top crust. Lay the second pie crust over the filling. Trim any overhang to about 1 inch, then fold the edges of the top and bottom crusts together and crimp to seal. Cut several slits in the top crust to allow steam to escape.
Apply egg wash. Brush the top crust lightly with the beaten egg and sprinkle with coarse sugar for a golden, sparkling finish.
Bake. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet to catch any drips. Bake at 400°F for 20 minutes, then reduce heat to 375°F and bake for an additional 35 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling through the vents.
Cool completely. Transfer to a wire rack and cool for at least 2 hours before slicing. The filling will set as it cools — cutting too early will result in a runny slice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry Rhubarb Pie — One of the Seven We Brought to the Table