When I was a kid, I came to realize that there were two types of baking. All year long I would look forward to the plane ride east to visit my maternal grandmother and her family. Auntie Grace’s pies were one reason for my high-level of anticipation. She would always bake our favourites: raspberry for me and lemon meringue for my sister. Thinking back on it, I doubt if she ever used a recipe. Like many of my elderly relatives, baking was a tradition passed along from parent to child. My mom baked us cookies and made cereal squares but never pie and nothing too elaborate (except for the whipped cream and chocolate drizzle delight she made for my sister’s birthday).
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