I love sitting on the front porch, rocking in the old wood and cane chair as the sun sets. It’s not something I get to do very often, but when the street is quiet (or maybe kids are shouting and playing in a nearby backyard) there is nothing quite like it. The soothing sound of birds in the trees and a nice glass of lemonade are all you need to get right with the world. Or maybe you need a Pink Lemonade Pie.
Brian and I recently made it back from our whirlwind visit to the Midwest, practically driving all over kingdom come in an effort to visit as many friends and family as possible. We tried to squeeze in as many dinners and hangouts as we could, but of course we couldn’t make it around to everyone. There never is enough time, and all the driving around left me with plenty of “time” to think about this very concept.
I haven’t lived in the Midwest for over eight years now and it’s funny how some things in life change, and many others stay the same. There were neighborhoods built up in places that used to be miles of fields, and there were big empty spaces where buildings once stood. The contrast between the old and the new was startlingly apparent to me. Maybe because of my time away I have the perspective to see changes other people don’t catch. When you live in a place, and time is passing from day to day (as it does) it’s difficult to perceive change. It’s good to step out of your “normal” life once in awhile for a reminder to appreciate the things you have.
While driving around both Missouri and Oklahoma I remembered how I always craved a “big city” life with little ability to appreciate the endless expanse of fields and roaming animals, never happy with what I had. Fortunately and unfortunately this is a common theme in my life, always wanting more and trying to take on that next big thing. Being forced to slow down for a bit and take in the landscape was just what I needed.
Our drive to Bartlesville, Oklahoma (to see our friend Maria and her new baby, Noah) took us over a portion of Old Route 66. The road is a bit worn in places and many storefronts are boarded up where life once thrived before bigger interstates came along. There is a certain loneliness and sense of longing I associate with seeing this. The feeling is a like a craving, a craving for a time I’m not even old enough to remember but thanks to film and television I have a sense of. I get the same feeling when I look at the artwork of Norman Rockwell, a captured innocence of our country which has been seemingly lost or left behind in an effort to do things bigger, better and faster.
Bartlesville is the original home of the Phillips Corporation, and was once a booming town until Phillips merged with Conoco and relocated their headquarters to the southwest. Though the town seems to be doing just fine, I had a strong sensation of a place trying to find itself again and figure out it’s next move, or maybe that is just my own feelings about life being projected onto a place. Regardless, our friend Maria works for the tourism board and is helping bring people to town for both business and pleasure. Brian and I were obviously there for pleasure, and we were not disappointed.
Having lived there all her life, Maria knows everybody and gave us the full tour of town. We visited redeveloped industrial lofts, small (and fabulous) main street diners and even had a chance to visit a place called Woolaroc. This place is a nature preserve, similar to that of Dogwood Canyon, which we visited last week in Missouri. Woolaroc (Wood, lake, rock) was created by the head of the Phillips Corporation decades ago, and is home to many animals including buffalo and a horse and zebra combination called a Zony. The main attraction of the property is a museum housing American Indian artifacts. In the gift shop I was perusing through trinkets and “what-nots”, coming across a section of homey cookbooks. While flipping through the pages I saw a recipe that spoke to me as uniquely Midwestern. It is, of course, our pink lemonade pie.
The simplicity of the recipe is what stopped me. There are only four ingredients: a store bought graham cracker crust, Cool Whip, a can of frozen pink lemonade and a can of sweetened condensed milk. It sounds crazy, but I thought I just had to try it out in honor of Oklahoma (and in honor of “baking” something really quick while on vacation). I did buy three of the four ingredients, but my conscience wouldn’t let me purchase a store-bought crust. I know, I know…they are good you say! But this is a baking blog after all and I had to at least put something in the oven for goodness sake. So I made the Graham Cracker Crust.
The crust recipe, too, is super easy. All you need is sugar, butter, graham crackers and a pinch of salt. It’s easily made in a food processor and then pressed into a 9-inch pie plate. Once it’s baked (at 350 degrees for 12 minutes or so), the crust needs to cool completely. Mix up your filling ingredients and pour it into the cooled piecrust, refrigerate for at least 2 hours and dessert is ready!
I might recommend putting the pie into the freezer just to get a little more firmness before cutting the pieces. Though the filling does hold up pretty well, it’s a bit on the soft side and doesn’t like to hold its shape the way you might like. The taste is, well, like pink lemonade. It almost reminded me of Smarties candies from when I was a kid, or possibly the taste of Sweet Tarts. It’s a very childhood-memory inducing flavor and seemed to fit with my memory laced journey around the countryside.
The goal of our trip was to see family and “get away from it all”. It’s hard to escape your past; whether that was something you consider good or bad. Driving around, seeing old, overgrown highways, fields full of wildflowers and hay bails and quite a few of the friends and family I grew up with (many with kids and families of their own) made me realize time hasn’t stopped. In my mind certain convenience stores are still in a my small hometown, people “cruise” certain roads on Friday and Saturday nights to find out where the party is going to be, my 23 year old brother is still 6 and everyone is still alive and well with their lives and fortunes ahead of them. Some dreams came true, some didn’t, but most people are still plugging away trying to make the best life possible for themselves. I can relate. I’m doing the same thing in New York. It’s just who I am.
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