Is It Still ‘Homemade’ If You Bought the Pie Crust?

The Moment I Always Hesitate (But Shouldn’t)

It’s pie season—again. That magical time of year when flour dusts my counters, cinnamon lingers in the air, and someone always asks, “Wait… did you make this crust yourself?”

For a long time, that question used to make my heart race. I’d fidget with the pie server or tuck my hair behind my ear and quickly admit, “Actually, I bought the crust.” Almost like I’d just told a secret. Or let them down. Which is funny, because the compliments were still pouring in. People were going back for seconds. But I couldn’t stop myself from overexplaining.

Somewhere, I started believing that unless every part of the dish came from scratch, it didn’t fully count. That maybe it was just “assembled at home,” not really homemade.

Now? I’m done with that idea. I know better. And I say it proudly: Yes, it’s still homemade—even if I bought the pie crust.

Homemade Isn’t a Test You Pass or Fail

We’ve created this myth that “homemade” means you had to suffer a little. Spend hours kneading, resting, rolling, cutting. Don’t get me wrong, I love a kitchen day where I do all that. But those days are rare.

I grew up in a house where dinner came together between jobs, school pickups, and background chaos. My mom made enchiladas with canned sauce, used cake mix for birthdays, and her pot roast had soup packets in the base. We still called it homemade—because it came from her hands, her kitchen, her love.

Nobody measured the worth of a meal by how long it took. The value was in the flavor, the effort, the fact that someone made it for you at all.

So if my apple pie starts with a frozen crust but ends in someone’s smile… I’m not asking questions. That’s as homemade as it gets.

The Store-Bought Crust That Saved My Sanity

Let me tell you about last Thanksgiving. I was trying to make three pies, mashed potatoes, and stuffing in a kitchen the size of a closet. My toddler had a fever. The dog wouldn’t stop barking. My in-laws were on their way. And of course, I forgot to make the pie crust the night before.

I stood there, staring at the flour jar like it had betrayed me. I could’ve powered through. I could’ve made the dough, chilled it, rolled it out while my baby cried and the stuffing burned. But I didn’t. I grabbed the two pie crusts I had tucked away in the freezer “just in case” and used them without guilt.

Those pies were gone before the turkey hit the table.

Nobody asked about the crust. They tasted the apples, the warmth, the way it reminded them of home. And when someone finally did compliment the buttery flake, I didn’t flinch. I just smiled and said, “Thank you.”

Because I made that pie. It was mine. Start to finish. Crust included.

Real Homemade Comes from Intention

Here’s the truth no one says loud enough: buying a crust doesn’t erase the care you put in. It doesn’t make your pie less yours. It doesn’t change the fact that you stood in your kitchen, slicing peaches or peeling apples, adjusting cinnamon to taste, and watching through the oven window like it was a magic show.

Homemade isn’t just about ingredients. It’s about heart.

You still made the decision. You still handled the filling. You still waited for it to cool before slicing in. You still brought it to the table. That’s more real than any step in a recipe book.

The “Homemade Police” Don’t Live in Your Kitchen

Let’s just say it out loud: most of the pressure to make everything from scratch isn’t coming from the people we cook for. It’s coming from ourselves.

We scroll through blogs and baking shows and feel like we’re supposed to do it all. We internalize this idea that convenience means failure, shortcuts mean shame. But those standards? They’re fictional. No one eats your pie and thinks less of it because the crust came in a box.

So let’s stop apologizing. Let’s stop explaining. Let’s stop whispering our store-bought secrets like they’re confessions.

You bought the crust. You made the pie. It’s homemade. Period.

What I’ve Learned (and Keep Relearning)

There’s something freeing about letting go of the myth that we have to earn our right to be called a home cook. I’m learning to cook with what I have—time, energy, ingredients—and to be proud of the love I layer into every dish, even if that love comes wrapped in plastic.

And ironically? Once I stopped trying to impress everyone, the food got better. Simpler. Warmer. More me.

Now I keep store-bought pie crusts in my freezer the way some people keep emergency candles or chocolate. Because sometimes, knowing I don’t have to do it all is the reason I actually cook at all.

Final Thoughts

Yes, it’s still homemade. Because you were the one who stood in your kitchen, added the spice, stirred the filling, set the timer, and hoped it would bring someone joy. Because you made it matter, even if every piece wasn’t made from scratch.

Homemade isn’t defined by difficulty. It’s defined by intention.

And in that sense, that frozen pie crust might just be one of the smartest, kindest ingredients in my kitchen.