“Hey, you forgot your rolling pin,” he said.
“You don’t wash that, silly. It’s wood. A quick scrub under the faucet and it will be all set for the next time. You have to take care of them properly or they won’t roll a nice crust."
As I rinsed the pin, I thought about all the pies I’ve made in my lifetime and how much better I've gotten at making them over the years. My crusts usually roll out into a lovely circle, just supple enough to bake into a nice flakey topping. In my earlier years, I struggled; often the dough would be too dry or too moist and I would cuss as I tried to work the mixture. And then there were always those divots throughout the dough.
“Do you remember how I used to have divots in my crusts?”
“Well, I did. You can always tell a woman who cooked before she was married.”
“How so?” he asked.
“She has dents in her rolling pin.”
He looked at me quizzically.
“You know. Most single women use any tool at hand when they need to pound that nail for a curtain rod bracket, or to hang a picture. My tool was my rolling pin. Then, when we married, you came with a tool box.”
“I don’t know if I’ve been giving you too much credit over the years or not enough,” he grinned.
I like to think it’s been just about right.