The sweet summer air glides across my face. Summer is coming to an end. The sweet yet savory smells drift upstairs, my family members eagerly awaiting as we begin descending. Just like the cartoons, steam rises from the crust. Grandma’s cooking is always the best. The ingredients in the pie were freshly picked from the tomatoes to the basil, making it wholesome and satisfying.

Since I was a little girl, Grandma and Grandpa always had a tomato plant growing in the garden. Grandpa loved his tomato plant, and was so proud of the delicious offspring it produced. Picking out the basil plant from the store, that would later live on for the whole summer. Seeing the daily care and watering pay off. Knowing not only that you were eating fresh food, but also that you worked for it, made it taste even better. From the tedious cutting of the basil, to watching the tomatoes go through the stages of ripeness, brings enjoyment to us, knowing we helped it prosper.

Sitting down in the same chair since fifth grade, and seeing the same red and white checkered placemats, I await Grandma’s Tomato Pie comfort. Heat seeps out of the pie, as it is precisely cut. Right before the chaos begins, Tomato Pie makes everything better.