My late mother-in-law was a great baker so I can honestly say that I stood beside the master when learning to bake pies. I still see her hands patting the dough and bringing it into a ball before rolling. She taught me to roll from the middle out, then turn the dough circle and again, roll from the middle out. She had the touch. Her pies were a delicacy, her crust light as a feather.
My silly tradition is to always bake a baby pie. I put a little dough aside, scraps from the others, you know, and have always been lucky enough to have a little one at my table feeling special to have their very own pie. This year it is my great granddaughter Skylar who is 5.