My dad used to sing to me an old folk song before I went to sleep. One of my favorite verses went:
Peach in the summertime, apples in the fall.
If I can't have the one I love, I won't have none at all.
I still like that lyric for its simplicity and its assertion of seasonal eating at a time when that was unquestioned. You ate fresh apples in the fall (and probably storage apples through the winter) and peaches all summer. Love could be fleeting and unreliable, but autumn apples and summer peaches would always be there.
That little girl who was serenaded each night with words of lost love and fruit grew up to have a pie obsession. I write a pie blog, bake at least once a week, and collect old pie paraphernalia, heritage recipes and family stories. In a way, that old verse explains this obsession. Though I have many reasons for loving the classic dessert — its ties to tradition and the past, its association with women home cooks and, of course, its deliciousness — one of the main reasons I like pie is because maybe more than any other dish, it is dependent on season.
Read on via NPR