How to Win a Pie Contest Without Trying

I entered the county fair pie contest on a dare from my coworker, Ines. I'm not a baker. I made my grandmother's rhubarb pie from a stained recipe card, and the crust cracked down the middle.

At the judging tent, my pie looked like a deflated football next to the others, which were perfect lattice works of art. I almost took it home.

I didn't win first. I won "Judges' Favorite," which apparently means "the one we kept going back to." One of the judges, a farmer of about seventy-five, told me it tasted exactly like the pie his mother used to make, and asked for the recipe.

I gave him a copy. My grandmother would have been thrilled. Ines has been insufferable about it ever since, and I've been baking pie every month.