One of the darkest days of my early adulthood involved pie. My teenage bride and I had just set up housekeeping in a dingy apartment near the campus of the college I was attending. She wanted to be a good homemaker and decided to bake a pie. Having never made a pie, her attempt at crust-making was not going well. I listened from a distance as she mixed the dough and tried to roll it out. It stuck to the table. She scraped it up and tried to roll it out again. And again. And yet again. Finally, in total …