A Childhood Love of Cherries

There are certain flavors that seem to follow us through life, quietly weaving themselves into memory long before we understand why. For me, cherries have always been one of them.

As a child, I had a billowy cotton top scattered with tiny cherries that I adored. I would have worn it every day if my mother had allowed it. I loved everything about cherries, their color, their sharp sweetness, the way they felt both cheerful and slightly nostalgic all at once.

And despite my now fairly discerning palate, I also had a deep affection for those little Hostess sour cherry pies. I would sneak one into the shopping cart whenever I could, or ride my bike to the gas station and buy one myself, eating it before I got home.

These days, I’m admittedly far pickier about pastry. I can immediately tell when something is made with shortening instead of butter, and I avoid artificial flavors and overly sweet fillings whenever possible. But that childhood love of sour cherries never disappeared.

The Sour Cherry Tree

So when I discovered a cherry tree heavy with fruit in my friend Alice’s garden, I felt an almost childlike excitement. One bite told me they weren’t the sweet cherries you find piled high at the market, but sour cherries that were sharp, bright, and meant for baking. Instantly, I began imagining pies cooling on the counter, jars of ruby-red jam, and buttery pastry stained with cherry juice.

The next morning, I returned to Alice’s house with clippers, a straw hat, and a large bag, determined to gather as many cherries as I could before the birds claimed them first. I made sour cherry jam that afternoon, then returned the following day to pick more for these hand pies.

Old-Fashioned Sour Cherry Hand Pies

Wrapped in buttery pastry and filled with tart cherries that bubble and stain the edges as they bake, these hand pies feel wonderfully old-fashioned in the best possible way — the kind of thing meant for picnics, long summer afternoons, or sharing with people you love.

I brought a basket of the finished pies back to Alice so she could enjoy them, too.

A Garden Remembered

The photographs I took in her garden that day mean even more to me now. Not long afterward, Alice became ill and passed away far too quickly. One image of her empty chair beneath the cherry tree has stayed with me ever since.

What once simply felt like a beautiful summer afternoon now feels like a small preservation of memory, a reminder of friendship, generosity, and the fleeting sweetness of ordinary days.

Before You Begin

Hand pies are a bit more time-consuming and slightly more advanced than making a traditional pie, but they’re well worth the effort. The key is patience and keeping the dough as cold as possible throughout the process. If the pastry begins to soften or feel sticky at any point, simply return it to the refrigerator for a few minutes before continuing.

A flaky, buttery crust comes from cold butter and gentle handling, so take your time and enjoy the process. These are the kind of pastries that feel beautifully rustic and handmade, and that’s exactly how they should be.