My mom always made the best pies.  She had been taught by my grandmother, the queen of lemon meringue, the duchess of apple.  Her flour and Crisco-based crust was thin, flaky and crisp--it even had the tenacity to hold up for a few days if you managed to fight off the urge to polish the pie off in one sitting.  Pie, in our family, was one of the few edible things to come out of the kitchen (sorry, Mom).

Flash forward many years to my solitary, relatively pie-less twenties.  A brief stint as a resident of Niagara Falls left me in desperate need of a fresh green salad (or any vegetable besides frozen corn and marinara sauce) and fresh pie.  While living there I had access to wonderful biscottti from DiCamillo and delicious bread from Trusello's, but with Mom nowhere in sight, fresh pie was not to be had.  I resigned myself to a life where pie could only be enjoyed when traveling.

Then one day I was invited to have dinner at a friend's house.  Her grandmother had just baked a fresh, from-scratch pumpkin pie.  With a small dollop of whipped cream, this pie was perhaps the best pie I had ever tasted.  Despite pumpkin not ranking in my top ten pie hall of fame, the crust was a-mazing!  It had an ideal density; there was a perfect amount of crispiness, but still some toothsome-ness and a resilience to the moist filling.  It was delicious and eye-opening.  I quickly began peppering my friend's unwitting grandmother with questions about her recipe.  How was it possible to make such an amazing crust? Did she chill the water with ice cubes?  Did she use one of those weird cloths to cover her rolling pin? Did she use real butter or special flour?  What was the secret?  She denied any special skill and showed me her recipe.  Nothing about it seemed remarkable, with the exception of---lard? 

In the early 90s nobody was eating animal fat where I came from.  Hell, bacon was practically illegal.  At that point in time, Seattle was strictly fueled on Nirvana, whole wheat bread, spa salads and lots and lots of coffee.  How was it possible that anyone, anywhere was cooking with lard--on purpose? Regardless of my initial repulsion, I had to admit that the pie crust was astoundingly good and that, in and of itself, was enough to begin my lard journey.  Heck, if you can make a pie better than my grandma, I'll pay attention, even if the recipe calls for cat hair.

Turns out that despite its horrible reputation, lard isn't any worse for you than any other fat.  Some people even think it has health benefits. I'm inclined to believe them. (If you'd like to read more, please see the links below.) It seems to me--knowing what I know after spending the last few years as an advocate for local farms who grow healthy, fresh food--that much of what previous generations did to sustain life was pretty right on the money, that we only really screwed food up int he last fifty to seventy-five years by industrializing it, adding a ton of chemicals and turning it into a commodity.  So I tend to look at the choices that my great-grandmother would have made (like making mayonnaise from raw eggs, canning and preserving everything and anything and perhaps, using lard in pie crust), as better choices than her well-intentioned daughter and granddaughter made based on the change in societal norms (households with two working parents perceived the necessity of convenience foods and moved away from fresh and natural).  But maybe that's a larger discussion for another day.

As a lard convert, I've found it hard to find a good source.  The trouble with buying lard in the grocery store is: 1. it's not so easy to find, and 2. you don't really have any idea where the lard came from or how it was processed.  Since lard tends to freak people out anyway, I think the more you know, the easier it is to consider giving it a try.  Over at the from-scratch, local-centric food heaven known as Five Points Bakery, owners Kevin and Melissa Gardner are rendering lard for their customers.  And this isn't just ANY lard, this is lard from pasture-raised, all natural, heritage breed hogs.  This is politically correct (and delicious) lard!  Now Kevin and Melissa do not use this lard in their remarkable berads and baked goods, it is strictly an item available for your use at home.  I would imagine they must use it in their home as well, since, as professional bakers they understand the beauty and technical merit of doing just that.

So stop into Five Points to pick some up this weekend.  Below I've noted a recipe for pie crust from The Boston Globe, which is just one of the many uses for what will be your latest addiction: lard.

Lard Pie Crust
Makes one 9-inch double-crust pie


2.5 cups flour
1 tsp salt
3/4 cup cold lard
1/3 cup ice water
2 tbsp cider vinegar
Extra flour (for sprinkling)
1 tablespoon milk (for brushing)
1 tablespoon sugar (for sprinkling)

In a bowl, stir the flour and salt to mix them.

Add the lard and with a blunt knife, cut the lard into small pieces. With 2 blunt knives or a pastry blender, work the lard into the flour until it forms tiny crumbs.

In another bowl, mix the water and vinegar. Sprinkle the water mixture over the flour mixture. Use a rubber spatula to cut the liquid into the dry ingredients until the mixture forms large moist clumps.

Turn them out onto a floured board and knead lightly until smooth. Divide the dough in half so one piece is slightly larger than the other. Shape each into a flat round cake. Wrap in foil and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Roll out to desired size and finish to recipe specifications (the instructions differ depending on whether or not the pie must be baked with the filling, or if the crust will be baked on it's own and filled afterward).