While growing up in Michigan, my twin sister and I would spend a week of the summer at my dear Aunt Margie’s farm. For us, no week was ever more anticipated. One of the highlights of the week was Saturday Baking Day. We started baking, at dawn in my Aunt’s tiny, pink kitchen to avoid the heat of the summer day. My Aunt rolled out the crust. My sister prepared the fresh raspberry layer, and I stirred the creamy custard filling. Each summer, the three of us consistently turned out a beautiful and delicious pie. I remember how I couldn’t wait until Uncle Howard came home for supper so we could eat our masterpiece. Oh, how the day lingered. Lucky for you, you don’t have to wait for Uncle Howard.