Life, Libraries, Lutherans & Life with Latif: The story of three men and a quest for a pumpkin pie.

It was at a Starbucks in Valpo that pie was first discussed. This was after the freak mid-October snow squall in Lowell IN, and after the sun came out, and as a way for Pastor Chad Kendall to get some quiet time to finish his Sunday sermon, and Stacie Kendall could enjoy a little peace to prepare supper that would no longer be burgers on the deck because—well freak mid-October snow squall, but rather homemade pizzas. So we, Latif and I ventured with Isaac and Sam to Isaac’s school to explore the chapel and the library, because, well, why not.

It occurred to me en route that Stacie had never been a passenger when Mr. Gaba was driving and that perhaps accounted for her willingness to let us take her sons on a road trip. There were comments made in the back seat about rolling stops and speed limits, but not very convincing ones. Or at least not convincing to the driver.

At Valparaiso University we checked out the chapel’s lower level since there was a concert going on in the main part, then ventured over to what I consider to be the best designed academic library I’ve ever been in. My Library of Congress skills came to good use in being able to locate Luther’s Works (BR 330s) and Russian Literature (PGs) Then it was off to Starbucks. It was while sipping drinks and talking about the prevalence of pumpkin based products Isaac said he would like some pumpkin pie. Mr. Gaba then mentioned that it was a personal goal of his to make a pumpkin pie from scratch. At this point Isaac chimed in that they should just do it. They should do it that night. They should totally make a pie that night. That was the plan.

That was the plan. But that was the plan before Mr. Gaba got back in the driver’s seat (after another freak mid-October snow squall) and per his usual method of navigation chose a route back to Lowell that had almost nothing to do with the way we had come. (With Mr. Gaba it is never a journey. It is always an adventure—so our young passengers learned.) Nobody died. It was OK. Mr. Gaba got us back to Lowell just a little later than expected. A friendly clerk at a gas station was consulted and affirmed that if Mr. Gaba kept going on the road he was on, he’d get to another road that would connect to another road that would get us back home—eventually) All this is to say that the making of pie did not happen Saturday evening. Thought to be fair, dinner making was still in progress when we got back, so I’m not sure if there would have been time anyway. The pizzas were quite good.

Sunday after church, before heading back to the house, there was talk of it being a good time for coffee…and doughnuts, but, alas, no doughnuts. I casually said, “You could always make pie.”

First lunch had to be made, then eaten, then cleaned up, and finally the kitchen was turned over to the three of them and their quest for a pumpkin pie. Of course this had to be a pie that all three could eat, so with various dietary restrictions it had no dairy and no eggs and was made with a lot of organic local type things like the jar of Amish lard that had to be scooped out for the crust. I (having lived with Mr. Gaba’s culinary adventures) simply sat back to enjoy the show. Stacie, well it was her kitchen, and she is not, shall we say, well-practiced in Gaba-esque go-with-the-flow cooking, so there was a lot of getting up and advice giving until I encouraged her by saying that it would be OK if the pie was not perfect and she could offer advice when asked but should really just let them figure it out. That was not easy for her, but rather entertaining for me to watch.

Mr. Gaba demonstrates measuring salt using the Cajun Cook Justin Wilson’s method.

Consulting the recipe supplied by Stacie

After Stacie found it for them, (“Sadly there is no cure for male refrigerator blindness”—Pickles) and they each took artful turns shaking it up, (per advice from Stacie that it requires shaking) Sam carefully measures the apple cider vinegar for the crust with Mr. Gaba's approval.