I am going to give you the recipe for what I call, the pie of my childhood. My mom was a stay-at-home farmer's wife with five children and she Baked. Her. Heart. Out. In addition to loaves of freshly baked and buttered french bread, I came home most days to pies. In high school, my cousin and I would go for a three mile run along our road and without a word, return home and head straight for the drawer. We each pulled out a fork, grabbed a pie, and dug directly into the tin until it was gone. Looking back, thank goodness our metabolisms were fast enough to handle that routine!