Happy Ramadan

This morning on our daily trip to the park, E and I stumbled upon something rather impressive—a giant throng of Muslims gathered in celebration of Ramadan. He played happily for an hour while the Imam at the podium talked of peace and celebration.  And he watched, captivated, as the crowd chanted, bent and knelt in unison.

I am so proud to to be raising my son in this city. A city where the call to prayer is not a strange sound, where he takes his Saturday morning nap to the sound of Hare Krishnas singing in the courtyard of the Methodist Church next door and where Every Single Morning after walking my husband to the subway we pass four Buddhist monks that wink at E as he smiles and waves.

New York, sometimes you frustrate and exhaust me, but today, I love you.

Pursuing Perfect Pie

I grew up in the south. And we're not talking about South Jersey, here. I am from the honest-to-goodness-south-of-the-mason dixon line, south.

In addition, I have a mother who is undeniably a gifted pie-maker.

Based solely on these two facts alone, you'd think I'd be able to throw together a decent pie.

I even know my way around a kitchen! I'm no gourmand, but I can absolutely put together some tasty food. But in spite of all of this, I am inexplicably terrified of making pies. Perhaps it's the mental block I have remembering the ratio of butter, flour and salt necessary for a perfectly flaky crust. Or perhaps it's just that I'm terrified I won't live up to my mom's pie-making awesomeness.

Since I've been on a bit of a fear-conquering streak of late, I decided to confront my pie terrors head on. My mom was visiting for Labor Day weekend which just so happens to always be near her birthday. Commence operation Birthday Pie.

For my first (totally from scratch) pie, I chose a Pear, Fig and Prune pie with an almond crust.  I even made a batch of honey almond ice cream so that if the pie was a total bust it could easily be drowned by it.


This is a picture of the result.

Pretty tasty if I say so myself! The crust tasted just like almond shortbread and the filling was comforting and gooey. 

I even puffed up with pride when my mom gave it her stamp of approval. 

Although it certainly was not perfection I don't think I'll be breaking out in a cold sweat next time I see a pie plate.