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“I'm making a galette instead of a tart," Sam said. "Fancy," Deana said. "Actually, it's not," Sam said. "It's more rustic. More fitting of Michigan, I thought." Willo pulled three mugs- all mismatched- from her cupboard and poured three cups of coffee. "In school, I learned that a galette is sort of the offspring of a pie and a tart- halfway between homespun and fancy- but easier to make than its parents. The biggest difference is that a galette is a free-form pastry, baked without a pie pan or tart ring. It's rustic. And it's forgiving. You just roll it out flat and then fold it in roughly around the filling." Sam stopped and sipped her coffee. "The wonderful thing is that you can't mess it up; the crust will tear and be a little more done in places, the juices will leak, but as long as you use really fresh ingredients, like the fruit we have here, and real butter for the dough, it bakes into something magical. Making a galette really gave me confidence to try trickier desserts. But it's still one of my favorites. And you can make sweet or savory galettes. I made two crusts today. I thought I'd turn one into a savory galette for dinner. I have a recipe for an asparagus, mushroom, goat cheese, and bacon galette I think I'll make." Sam looked at her mom and grandma, who were staring at her openmouthed. "I never realized how accomplished you were," Deana said. "But I knew you had- what did we call it, Mom?" "The gift," Willo said. "You've always had the desire and talent to bake.” — Viola Shipman