Love Languages: Pear Pie and Adventures to Utah

I rushed a pie. In so many ways.

My pears weren’t perfectly ripe (in the way that avocados are not ripe and very quickly bad, I feel pears are the same way).

I didn’t have enough time to let the crust set perfectly.

I walked very quickly to the grocery store instead of letting my body and mind wander about the pie I was about to bake.

And I usually bake on Fridays before a 4 o’clock shift instead of a Monday before a 1:30 shift.

But I did this for my sanity. A little rushed insanity for six days of slow, heartwarming sanity.

I met Brenna in 2007, my freshman year. She was my residential advisor and we fell in friend love months later when I realized she actually wanted to be my friend and wasn’t around because she had to be. She is not one to waste her time on things she does not want. This idea (that she loves me and doesn’t need to love me) is one that helps me realize I’m not worthless when I feel quite bad about myself.

She moved out west nearly four years ago and I hadn’t seen her.  She picks up her phone when I need someone. When she (rarely) needs someone, I try to be there for her too.  We don’t talk every day (or even every month), but I know that if I were ever to need her, she’d be there (figuratively, seeing as she’s many states away). But I saved some money and flew out to see her.  I expected to spend the weekend and after work hours with her, but in true Brenna fashion, she took two full days off as well. 

We talked and talked and talked. We spread the Gay Agenda.

She baked.

We traveled into the nest of security (the Spanish Fork Canyon) and shared secrets with the Prince of Norway and saw the Delicate Arch and made up stories of the Brenna as the weirdo-introvert petroglyph artist.

We IKEA-dated and ate ice cream and I built a shelf in my love language (Acts of Service).

 She fell asleep on me. I walked around Salt Lake City. I ate churros and wrote post cards and visited new Starbucks because I’m a nerd.

I found a print that I thought she would like and reminded me of her love of life and scribbled a note in a stream of consciousness way to tell her how much I loved and appreciated her and left a tiny elephant in hopes it would remind her of how happy she makes me.

 I left Utah with a sense of calm, a sort-of zen that would be shattered with a new store opening and new baristas and the busiest store I’ve worked in. But I left Utah knowing a lot more about LDS (that’s Latter Day Saints, see?!), Utah, mountains, and knowing I’m loved deeply by someone I love deeply. And nothing can shatter these feelings and memories.

But about that pie: people liked it. One person judged the pears with a true queen-like fashion, and my friend stood up for me and ate two slices. My boss (one of the few people who is totally honest with me about my baking) said the pears weren’t ripe enough. But he ate the whole (large) slice I saved him. 

I pretty much did Joy the Baker's Bourbon Pear Crumble Pie but I couldn't find cardamom so I just used some Pumpkin Pie Spice that I did have.  I took some Bulleit and bitters from work because I don't drink bourbon. It was a good recipe, unsurprisingly.