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In the sweltering Southern Indiana summers of the 1950s, one mother managed to serve a hot meal and homemade dessert to her family of five every evening—usually by 5 or 5:30 p.m. She did it while wearing a corset and stockings in a home without air conditioning.

Pie was the dessert of choice. During warmer months, the filling depended on whatever fruit was in season. Cherry pies were a favorite, made with cherries picked from the Flory family’s tree across the alley.

For his 16th birthday, one son even requested cherry pie instead of cake so he could eat as much as he wanted. He finally surrendered after consuming about a pie and a half.

Winter brought cream pies in lemon, coconut, chocolate and butterscotch. Each was crowned with meringue browned like whitecaps across the surface.

Before boxed cake mixes became common, making a pie could be faster than baking a cake. In one timed test, the mother needed only 13 minutes to prepare a filled, two-crust pie with hand-crimped edges and slide it into the oven.

Any leftover dough became a special treat known as a Johnny Cake. Rolled out, dotted with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, it baked alongside the pie.

Those fresh desserts established a standard that restaurant pies rarely meet. Compared with a tender homemade crust and carefully prepared filling, commercial versions can seem more like stiff boards covered in paste.

The preference recalls Paul Newman’s famous observation about choosing the steak waiting at home over going elsewhere for hamburger. When homemade pie was once an everyday pleasure, a restaurant slice simply could not compete.