I've been designated as the pie-maker in my household. It's primarily a function of being able to roll out a great pie crust (all-butter, of course).  This time of year, I take the task pretty seriously as I get prepared to share pies with my friends and family.   And this time of year, especially, I'm reminded that this skill of mine is a gift I've been given and now can give back.

Rolling out pie dough is one physical way I draw upon my memories of my mother and grandmother, both, pie-bakers in their days, and provides me with what feels like a direct connection to my childhood.  I have memories of peeling apples with my grandmother, who could create continuous full-apple length peels, that she would sweeten up as treats on their own.   My mother's scrap dough "roll-ups" with a butter-cinnamon-sugar spread, were her way of keeping me from eating raw pie dough (it mostly worked) while standing alongside her on the small stool that came out for baking projects.

If I learned anything about rolling out it was that too much fussing only made your pie dough worse.  'Gentle hands' is how I remember it being presented, the pin does the work, not your arms.  I continue to hear my mother's voice sharing this, because I'm prone to over-working just about anything.

At the shop, the bakery team takes on the pie dough rolling, although I get the joy of baking off quiche shells quite often, reconnecting me with those early baking days, playing with dough, and yes, still nibbling the scraps. Each November, as the Thanksgiving pies pile up in the Butter kitchen, I'm drawn to my fond memories, pulled in through smells and tastes, and through the sound of rolling pins.

This summer and early fall I had the opportunity to bring our bakery's pizza dough balls out to three events through my church.  Stationed at the bread boards, I was given the role of "roller" - where 'thin to win' was the mantra as we rolled out balls in preparation for their trip to the pizza oven.   It was such a delight to have these events set up as a do-it-yourself activity, allowing anyone who wanted to roll out a dough ball to give it a try. 

Standing alongside children, teaching the motions -' roll out from the center' - encouraging their efforts, and celebrating the oddly shaped creations filled me with another kind of joy - that of rounding out the circle. In these instances, I get to be the "tall one" next to the "small one" passing along a gift.  It was easy for me to imagine a day in the future when these children next to me would be the ones offering guidance to a child ready to learn.

Although there are a few more years in my transition journey to pass along Butter Bakery, that recognition of moving on - stepping aside - is part of the path I'm on.  And, if, like my mother and grandmother, I can instill memories that live on, guiding those who will follow me, this will all keep rolling along.

May we find time along our walk together on this green path, to build memories that last, perhaps over pie.