As we forked into the crust-tender pie we were having for dessert we both marvelled at how perfect a cherry pie we were eating. The flaky crust teamed up with the perfect filling. Mouth-wateringly delicious. We each had a second helping, it was so good. Except that it wasn't a cherry pie. We were eating a blueberry pie I'd baked earlier in the day.

Earlier even than that I'd done the food shopping at the local supermarket I prefer to shop at. One of the day's specials was blueberry pints, on sale. At that price we could eat them as is on yogurt and sprinkled over breakfast cereal, and also in a pie.

Just incidentally, when I was exiting the supermarket and deposited my weekly Food Bank offerings in a bag containing tinned tuna, dehydrated soup, macaroni and cheese, tins of baked beans, and tins of flaked ham and flaked chicken, I noted something unusual. I placed my bag within the large container inviting community donations for the local food bank, and for the first time instead of a few lone tins, the bottom of the receiving container was covered with bags containing, presumably, offerings just like mine.

As for the blueberry pie; the crust I'd prepared had just the right amount of shortening and a very short squirt of lemon juice along with the ice-water in its preparation to make it perfectly tender and flaky. I'd mixed together in a saucepan sugar and cornstarch and a quarter-cup of cranberry juice, then dumped in a pint and a half of blueberries, cooking and stirring it together until it reached the right, glossy thickness. As it cooled I added a tablespoon of butter and the merest bit of Almond extract.

The pie was put together and baked and cooled for dessert that evening. It just happened to look like, smell like, taste like the perfect cherry pie.