Black and blue, but still standing

Controversies and chaos underscore truth that we may stumble but we get to try again.

A Black and Blue Pie with an intricate lattice crust

In 2005, my sister and I went to Washington, D.C., for a long weekend. We stayed in a historic hotel about a mile from the National Mall that was said to have been the “it” spot for events hosted by first ladies back in the day. It was kind of snuggled in a neighborhood with big trees and old houses and a red brick firehouse. That first evening, when we took a rambling walk through the neighborhood, firefighters were cooking hot dogs on a grill on the sidewalk. The hotel rooms were teeny tiny with barely enough space to walk between the bed and the wardrobe, but the dining room downstairs was beautiful and spacious — although pretty crowded in the mornings with business travelers — and the food delicious. I’m sure we had dessert with our first-night feast. I can’t remember if it was pie.

One day — the hottest, most humid day in the exhaustive history of the world — we walked to the Air & Space Museum from the Capitol, and although it wasn’t that long of a walk, we were drained and exhausted when we stepped inside the museum. Greeting us was blessed air conditioning and a McDonald’s. We ordered Big Macs and fries (were they still calling them “freedom fries” then?) and crunchy apple pies in little red boxes. And we lingered awhile at a cool table, elbow-to-elbow with hundreds of other respite-seekers, enjoying the sweetest, most satisfying Coke ever poured. That ordinary fast food just might have been the best meal I ever ate.

The next day, we made our way to the rooftop restaurant next door to the White House and we enjoyed late-afternoon drinks as the sun set behind the Washington Monument.

The terrace is now closed, off and on, because of COVID, and there is a heightened police presence, maybe not there but at other beloved D.C. spots, because of the “insurrection” two weeks ago. That’s kind of a punch in the gut, but even when we were there all those years ago, police officers stood on the Capitol steps with weapons visible.

Our trip was three years post-9/11, and the access and independence my sister had enjoyed on previous trips was severely curtailed. The Washington Monument was still closed. The White House remained huddled behind concrete barricades, and our trip inside the Capitol was limited to Statuary Hall and the Rotunda.

That changed, of course, loosening up in the following years, and it will change again.

Although sometimes our steps are painfully small and sometimes we stumble or even fall back, we always get to begin again.

I’ve been thinking about that trip since the news two weeks ago that a large group of violent thugs, enflamed by the incendiary words of a delusional president, had stormed the Capitol. When I saw the real-time video and, later, photos of rioters breaking windows and doors, overrunning police officers, scrambling like insects over fences and walls, violating the sacred spaces with Confederate flags and Trump banners and Nazi T-shirts and, maybe most poignant to me because I remember standing in that exact same spot, parading their ill-intentions past the iconic statue of the suffragettes, I — like all right-thinking Americans — was saddened and outraged.

But I was encouraged yesterday, when the traditions of our nation — though scaled down because of the pandemic — were carried out as usual. For all the speculating about the fragility of American democracy, yesterday, Inauguration Day underscored the opposite. The people’s votes counted. The insurrection failed. Democracy won out and there was, in fact, a peaceful transition of power.

The past two weeks, indeed the past four years, laid bare some of America’s greatest failings. But yesterday, a greater truth stood on the steps of the United States Capitol: Although sometimes our steps are painfully small and sometimes we stumble or even fall back, we always get to begin again.

Our enduring legacy to the world and future generations, on full display yesterday and every four years: Not perfect but still — and always — trying to be more perfect.

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A new approach to a decorative pie crust

The Pie

Instead of an As-American-As Apple Pie, which would have been appropriate, I chose a Black-and-Blue Pie because I believe we’re all feeling a little beat up after four years of the Trump Administration and because purple is the color of unity. I topped it with a tight, twisted lattice because I also believe, in spite of our failings and the times we get off course, we are still woven tightly together.

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The Recipe

Black-and-Blue Pie, Simplified

Ingredients

Dough for one 9-inch double pie crust

¾ cup sugar

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon ground cloves (optional)

1/8 teaspoon ground nutmeg

4 cups fresh blueberries

1 ½ cups fresh blackberries

½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Berries await addition to the pie crust

Roll out half of the pie crust and place in 9-inch pie plate. Trim, leaving a 1-inch border of dough around the plate.

In a large bowl, combine sugar, flour, cloves (if using) and nutmeg. Gently stir in the berries and vanilla until well coated, then pour into the bottom crust.

Roll out the dough for the top crust into an approximately 11-inch circle. Lay the top crust over the filling. Seal the top and bottom crusts together, then crimp the edges. Cut steam vents in the top with a knife. (This pie is also good for a lattice top. If you choose to use a lattice, after placing the top crust on the filling, place pie in the refrigerator for 30 to 60 minutes before baking. This should keep the lattice from warping while in the oven). Bake until the top turns golden brown, about 35 to 45 minutes. Keep an eye on the pie; and if the crust begins to brown too quickly, cover with a piece of loose foil. (It’s also a good idea to turn the temperature of the oven down to about 350 half way through the baking time.) Allow the pie to cool to room temperature before serving.

Black & Blue Pie with a fancy crust