A Thanksgiving Pie Story

He sat perched in a window. Seductive in his white trappings and surrounded by the colors of the season. I ran my fingers along his curves and decided in an instant that he had to be mine. Emile Henri in the form of the most beautiful pie plate ever created. I admit that the perfect pie crust has eluded me over the years and that there was hope for something better in this French pottery. My idea of heaven is a trip to Williams Sonoma to stare and gawk at all the possibilities for my kitchen and dining room. It's not my only idea of heaven, it just comes to mind during the holidays. So after my purchase, I headed home with my dreams of flaky crust, gooey fillings and perfect slices that slip out of the dish. On Thanksgiving eve, I pulled Emile Henri from the cupboard. The chosen pie was pecan, one of Paul Prudhomme's recipes. I prepared the dough and chilled it as recommended, but when removed from the refrigerator it was troublesome to roll it out. I love to bake, but I think I'm not precision enough for perfection. After beating the cold dough into submission and rolling it to the appropriate thickness, I slid it into the dish. I wasn't quite sure how to handle the fluted edges. At the store it seemed like it would all just naturally fall into place. That's what we always think. Next, the filling went in. It looked good, but how would it taste? I watch carefully for about an hour. As it emerged from the hot oven I carefully set it out to cool. The crust wasn't perfectly shaped, but it tasted great, was the right thickness and yes, was easily coaxed out of the pie plate and onto each dish. He may have lured me in with a pretty face, but Emile Henri certainly proved he can stand the heat. I'll never let him go.