PALMYRA – In a tiny kitchen in the corner of the St. Martin’s Episcopal Church hall, six pies are put into the oven, and as extra gravy bubbles on the stove, the aromas begin to fill the air.
The door suddenly swings open and a visitor shouts out, “Smells good, ladies!”
At the counter, Bev Breau, 73, mixes the dough, rolls the pastry and trims the crust. Behind her, Virginia Morrison, 63, fills the pies with chunks of turkey, ladles on gravy and keeps a close eye on the pies in the oven.
For 20 years, Breau and Morrison have been making pies for the church’s twice-a-month turkey pie suppers – 20 years, 20 pies each supper, that’s about 800, give or take a pie or two.
When supper for many busy Maine families means a quick frozen entree or a stop at a fast-food joint, the semimonthly suppers at St. Martin’s have become a popular event, providing a place for the community to gather over homemade, hearty food.
“We are such a rural community,” Breau said. “People like to come out and visit. We have one couple that brings their own coffee mugs and sits and chats with everyone.”
What began as a simple fundraiser has turned into an outreach program.
“We are a small congregation, with about 35 active members,” Breau said. “But we’ll have more than 70 people show up for the turkey pie supper.”
For some, it’s the only time they get together with their neighbors, and they tend to linger long over the paper-covered tables.
“We’ve had diners lined up outside the door, all the way to where the church used to be,” Breau said.
St. Martin’s Church, a historical icon on Route 2, burned to the ground two years ago. Since then, the small congregation has been meeting, praying and cooking in the church hall.
“We call ourselves the all-purpose church right now,” Breau said. “We’ll take down all the tables after the supper Saturday night and set the hall up for Sunday services.”
The kitchen gets a bit quiet then, as everyone remembers the night the church burned.
“It was devastating to lose our church,” Breau said.
When St. Martin’s burned, the entire community turned out. Firefighters – some of them parishioners themselves – carried treasured items out of the fire, tears running down their faces as they worked. Many townspeople who stood solemnly watching the church burn said that it wasn’t just a religious center, it was a landmark in this small town.
The suppers also have become part of the fabric of the community, giving townspeople a place to gather and a way to help fund the church’s rebuilding campaign.
Standing in her flour-covered apron, Breau works the dough easily. “After 20 years, you can just feel when it’s right,” she said.
The system is simple, relying totally on volunteers: Parishioners cook the turkeys, pick the meat off the bones and deliver it to the two pie makers. The pies are made in about four hours the day before a supper. Just before the Saturday night supper, the pies are reheated, the gravy warmed up, potatoes boiled and mashed, and desserts, also handmade by parishioners, begin to arrive.
The desserts themselves have gained such a reputation that the women have put together a cookbook that includes Pumpkin Crisp, Maple Syrup Cake, Fresh Rhubarb Cake and Striped Delight. The little booklet used to be sold for $1, but “we had to go up to $2 after the fire,” Morrison said.
“For six bucks, they get a darned good meal,” Morrison said. “We serve family style and people like to be waited on.”
Breau said that more than 20 years ago, the church ordered the pies from a Fairfield bakery. “One year, I forgot to call the order in and I was stuck,” Breau said. “We had to make our own.”
Breau said the church discovered it brought in $100 more in profit by making the pies themselves, and Breau and Morrison have been doing it ever since.
They do take a short break in July – “camp breaks” Breau called them – and the men cook pancakes for the women on Shrove Tuesday, the day before Lent begins. Parishioner Chris Lindsay holds a bean-hole bean supper two times a year, and at the annual church fair the menu changes to include corn chowder and seafood chowder.
The profits from one dinner a year go to St. Martin’s Literacy Program, and the rest helps support the church and its rebuilding campaign.
As the pie makers move quietly around the kitchen, it’s almost like a dance, the steps rehearsed for decades. “Ginny and I are kind of compatible,” Breau admitted. “We’ve been doing this for 20 years without any fights.”
“One more top crust and we’ll have a full oven,” Morrison called out.
“And then we’ll stop for a cup of tea,” Breau answered.
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