I have a feeling this is going to bug me every November for the rest of my days.

I can’t find the recipe card Mom sent me with the simple instructions for pie crust.

Forty years ago as a young bride, I asked Mom to send me some of her favorite family recipes. We talked on the phone at great length and built our list: Meatloaf, Potato Salad, Surprise Pie, Mayonnaise Cake, Banana Bread, Three-Bean Salad, and … pie crust.

I remember Mom let out a guttural sound when we talked about pie crust. It was a simple recipe – lard, flour, water, salt – but was difficult to get right. Rolling it out to the right size – without it sticking and tearing – was a challenge she did not look forward to each year when it was “pie season.”

After Mom passed, nearly three years ago, I talked to Dad about family recipes. He told me something I didn’t know: Grandma Cassidy baked delicious cookies and cakes; her mother – Gram – well, her specialty was pies.

“In fact, that’s Gram Regan’s pie crust recipe Mom gave you.”

Gram Regan was born Margaret Kelly in 1869 in what is now Northern Island. She married Joseph Regan in 1888 and set sail for America. They settled in New Haven, Connecticut, built a wonderful life together …

… and baked a lot of pies with that recipe from Ireland.

Cut to the chase: I can’t find it. I have looked and looked. I’ve found all the other recipe cards Mom sent.

I just looked again. Now it’s my turn to let out a guttural sound or two.

Frankly, I’d put it to rest a year or so ago, while sorting through Mom’s cookbooks. Some were sent to my niece Chef Becky and the rest I brought home. I emailed relatives with last names like O’Brien and Cassidy, asking if they might have Gram’s pie crust recipe. I won’t give up hope, but it appears the recipe is gone.

Gone, but not forgotten. While flipping through a spiral notebook with Mom’s childhood writings from 5th, 6th, and 7th grades (1940-42), this one jumped from the page:

Grandma’s Pie

There’s nothing like my Grandma’s pies,
When Christmas Day is here –
Everyone just claps their hands
And give a great big cheer.

There is apple, pumpkin, mincemeat, and peach
And even cherry pie;
And Grandma’s very happy –
And a twinkle’s in her eye.

When the day is over –
And we’ve had enough to eat,
She gives us each a piece of pie
To take home, for a treat.

~ Joan Cassidy, 12 years old, 1942

This poem of Mom’s, written 80 years ago in green ink, feels like a message: Keep looking. Keep asking. Don’t give up.

Mom inherited her red locks, love of reading, and lifelong writing of poetry from both sides of her family. She did them all proud. (And her pies were superb.)

“Grandma’s Pie”  ©1942 Joan Cassidy. All rights reserved.

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