Triple Berry Rhubarb Pie

I have been thinking about Daddy. Willie James is eighty-two now—no, wait, he was born in 1938, that makes him eighty-one this year—and I cannot visit him because of COVID protocols at the nursing home, the same protocols that kept me from Bernice in her final weeks, the same locked door, the same parking lot. I call every day. The aides are kind. They hold the phone to his ear and they tell me afterward whether he seemed to respond, whether he tracked the sound, whether his face changed. He is further into the dementia now than Mama was at this point in her progression. The world inside Willie James's mind is a world I cannot reach directly, a world from a long time ago, a world where the steel mill is still running and Bernice is in the kitchen and the children are small.

What I do for him is food. I arrange for his favorite foods to be brought in—the nursing home allows family food deliveries now, they have a protocol—and I send sweet potato pie once a week, which he eats without fail regardless of how confused he is about everything else. Last week the aide called me after and said he had eaten two slices and then said "Bernice." Just the name. Just: Bernice. Whether he meant Mama made it, or whether he was calling for her, or whether the pie itself carried her to him across whatever distance the dementia has opened—I don't know. I said: I'll make more pie, Daddy. As much pie as you want. We will keep Bernice at your table for as long as you need her there. You don't have to eat alone.

I don’t have Mama’s sweet potato pie recipe written down anywhere that I can find — it lived in her hands, and now I piece it together from memory and instinct, which feels right, honestly, because that’s how she cooked. But when I need to bake something that carries that same quality of presence, that same tart-sweet ache of a filling that hits you somewhere deep, I come back to this Triple Berry Rhubarb Pie. The rhubarb does what grief does: it cuts through the sweetness just enough to remind you something real is in there. I’ve sent this one to Daddy too, on weeks when the berries are good, and the response is always the same — he eats it. That’s everything.

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 25 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 package (14 oz) refrigerated pie crusts, or 2 homemade pie crust rounds
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen strawberries, hulled and halved
1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries
1 cup fresh or frozen raspberries
1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen rhubarb, sliced 1/2-inch thick
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)
1 tablespoon coarse sugar (for topping)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 400°F. If using refrigerated crusts, let them sit at room temperature for 15 minutes. Fit one crust into a 9-inch pie dish and trim any overhang to about 1/2 inch.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, gently combine the strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and rhubarb. In a small bowl, whisk together the granulated sugar, brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and salt. Sprinkle the sugar mixture over the fruit and toss to coat evenly. Stir in the lemon juice.
Fill the pie. Pour the fruit filling into the prepared crust, mounding it slightly in the center. Dot the top of the filling with the small pieces of butter.
Top the pie. Lay the second crust over the filling. Fold the edges of both crusts together and crimp to seal. Cut 5 or 6 small slits in the top crust to vent steam. Brush the top crust all over with the beaten egg and sprinkle with coarse sugar.
Bake. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet to catch any drips. Bake at 400°F for 20 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 375°F and continue baking for 30–35 minutes more, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling through the vents.
Cool before slicing. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and let it cool for at least 2 hours before slicing. The filling will set as it cools — cutting too early will give you a runny slice.

Nutrition (per serving)

Triple Berry Rhubarb Pie — The Pie That Keeps Bernice at the Table