Grandma's Sugar Cookie Pie

Grandma's Sugar Cookie Pie

My cousin is not a cook. Never has been and probably never will be. Last weekend she stopped by for a chat and I invited her to stay for dinner. That sounded rather marvelous to her, she said, as she hadn't planned anything for dinner. She's single, forty, and skinny as all get out. I'm not sure she eats three meals a day. An hour before dinner time, I went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner.

Charlene, that's my cousin, followed and sat on one of the breakfast stools to chat and watch. I decided that the chicken and rice casserole prep wouldn't take long. I had time to make a dessert. Charlene asked if I ever made Grandma's sugar cookie pie. The crust is like a sugar cookie and the filling is sort of a pudding. Sounds simple enough; and I've eaten it several times. But, for some reason, I have not made it myself. I never thought of asking for the recipe.

“It can't be too difficult, can it?” Charlene is leaning on the counter.

“Well, I know how to make Grandma's sugar cookies but I've never made the filling. I just know it's a very lemony flavor.”

“No, it's not lemon.” Charlene leaned back on the stool. “I never had lemon sugar cookie pie at Grandma's. I'm sure it's not lemon.”

I shook my head. “I am sure it's lemon, Char. I've had it every Christmas that I can remember.” Grandma only bakes this pie at Christmas – at least, that's the only time I've eaten it.

“Well, so have I. It's more a raspberry flavor. Maybe strawberry.”

“I don't think so. I don't recall raspberry or strawberry at all. You must be thinking of something else.”

I finished putting the chicken and rice casserole together and slipped it into the oven. I set the timer before I turned back to my cousin.

“Think carefully, Char. Remember last Christmas at Grandma's? She made three sugar cookie pies. I helped put the whipped cream on top. The pies were lemon.”

Determined that the pie had been a lemon creation, I made the sugar cookie dough. I rolled it out and carefully fitted it into a pie pan. I am sure the crust is baked before filling. But that's truly all I could remember. I have a range with two ovens. The pie crust went into the second. Higher temperature.

“No, it's raspberry, Kari. Maybe strawberry.”

“Lemon, Char.”

It doesn't take long for cookies to bake and only twice that for a cookie pie crust. Charlene and I sat sipping coffee. My family will be home in half an hour. If I'm going to fill this crust as Grandma does, it'll have to be soon. Finally I suggested that we just give Grandma a call. Didn't that make sense?

Grandma's line was busy. And busy. And busy. She was probably talking to one of our mothers. They often have long telephone conversations.

The crust was out and on a cooling rack when my family came in. My husband sniffed the air as he came into the kitchen. “You're baking sugar cookies?”

Charlene and I snorted and then laughed. “Not really. Char is staying for dinner and thought Grandma's sugar cookie pie would be a wonderful dessert.”

Jon, my husband, nodded. “Oh ,that would be great. I love the way the bananas and vanilla pudding taste with the crust.”

Charlene and I looked at him, astonished. “What did you say?”

“I said I love the banana and vanilla filling in your grandmother's pie.”

Charlene said, “It's raspberry filling, Jon.”

“No, it's not. It's lemon.” I didn't stomp my foot but really thought about it. This was getting totally ridiculous.

“You're both bonkers. It's a banana cream pie, ladies.”

There was quite a bit of discussion between the three of us. My son, who is ten, came into the kitchen. “Hi, Aunt Char. I told Dad that was your car at the curb. Stayin' for dinner? Hey, Mom, did I hear you say you're bakin' Grandma's sugar cookie pie?”

“Well, I certainly planned to. But it seems that we can't agree on what flavor the filling is, Butch.”

“You're kidding me. Everybody knows it's dark chocolate.”

The three of us shook our heads. No way was it chocolate.

“I'm going to call again. It's been half an hour. Surely she's off the phone by now.”

The line was still busy. Butch was surprised that we didn't know the pie was chocolate. We are sure it's not. “Well, Mom, it's not lemon, or raspberry, or banana. What other flavor could it be? You guys aren't that old. How could you possibly forget chocolate? You've never baked it before. What brought it up now?”

Leave it to a kid to get to the point. “Your Auntie Char is staying for dinner and I said I had time to make dessert and Grandma's pie came up. Of course, now it's too late to make pie for dinner even if we knew what flavor it is. And Grandma's telephone is busy. But I've baked the crust and am not going to waste it.”

Butch smiled. “We can eat pie any time, Mom. It doesn't have to be at dinner. Or I could just eat the crust later.”

Well, he had a point. I took dinner plates from the cupboard and set them on the counter. Butch picked them up and began to set the table. Charlene got silverware from the drawer and helped him. Jon came up behind me and put his arms around me. “Don't get so worked up over a pie, Sweet Stuff. Could be that your Grandma has baked the pie so often that she's used all the flavors we remember. I am pretty sure it's banana but won't bet on it.”

I turned around and returned his hug. “You're right. But I have made the crust so need to follow up on the matter anyhow. I'll get the salad out of the fridge and start a pot of coffee. Dinner in ten.” I took the casserole out of the oven and put it on a hot pad on the dinner table. There's ice cream in the freezer for dessert.

Dinner conversation didn't get around to pie until we were nearly finished eating. It had been a pleasant meal. Charlene said she should head home. Jon suggested we try Grandma one more time before she left. She laughed.

“Excellent idea. Otherwise it'll keep me awake all night.” She laughed, “I'll just come for dinner tomorrow and have pie.”

The phone rang about five times before my Grandmother answered. She had to chit-chat for a few minutes before she thought to ask if I had called for anything in particular. I usually don't call this late on a Saturday.

“Well, Grams, I called about a recipe. Well, actually about part of a recipe. Charlene is here and I was going to make one of your sugar cookie pies. But we all disagree on what flavor the filling is.” ,,, “No, Jon says it's banana, Charlene says raspberry, Butch thinks it's chocolate and I am sure it's lemon.”

… “You're kidding! I don't have a recipe for that filling. Wait, I'll get a paper so you can give it to me. You will, won't you?” I got a pad and pencil out of the utility drawer of the telephone table.

I propped the phone on my shoulder and carefully wrote down the recipe for Grandma's Orange Dreamsicle pie filling.