Fried Pies

The Peak of Perfection

by

Photo courtesy Mercier Orchards • mercier-orchards.com

I’ve always held you can tell mountain southerners from all other southerners by the kind of fried pie they prefer. My father, raised up in eastern Kentucky, wouldn’t have turned down any form of hand-sized, fruit-filled pastry so perfect for a workingman’s (or schoolgirl’s) lunch. But he believed that ones made with dried apples were the peak of perfection.

Emmylou Harris, with Alabama roots, says simply: “It’s got to be peach to be a real fried pie. Peach is the only way to go.”

As for me, well I thought my Aunt Minnie’s fried apple pies, hot from her cast-iron skillet, were just about the best things ever invented. I couldn’t imagine anything to equal them until we stopped one day at Sprayberry’s Barbecue down in Newnan, Georgia. There the pies were fat, half-moon shaped confections, stuffed and oozing with golden brown dried peaches infused with the sweet scent of a Georgia summer. They were as good as my memory of Minnie’s—and I had to declare a draw.

But wait, one night I ran out of dried apples and turned to some dried pears instead. Mashed with brown sugar, their flavor was higher pitched yet more delicate than either apple or peach. The pies made with them were as good as any I’ve ever had. So it’s up to you to figure out which you would prefer.

Six of one, Half Dozen of Another

“We used to take fried pies to school for lunch,” recalled Bertha Monroe, Bill’s older sister. That was back around 1918 or so, when the father of bluegrass music was still a rambunctious little schoolboy down in Rosine, Kentucky.

“He was awful sweet,” Bertha recalled. “And so when Mama would make us those fried pies for school, I’d always take me about six, but I’d give William about five-and-a-half of them. There’s nothing so good as a fried pie.”


Fried Pies

Makes one dozen

You Will Need

To Prepare

Excerpted from Shuck Beans, Stack Cakes, and Honest Fried Chicken: The Heart and Soul of Southern Country Kitchens. Copyright ©1991 by Ronni Lundy.

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