About Pie Recipes Pan

What this work is made with

This page is not a story. It is a list of things: the actual objects this site depends on, described one by one. A reader learns more about how a recipe comes together from five tools than from five paragraphs about values.

Pie Recipes Pan publishes recipes that work—tested until they’re foolproof, not just copied from books or blogs. The things that make that possible are not the ingredients or the dishes, but the hands-on tools that shape them.

The things that do the work

Four objects keep this site running: a pan that has seen more fires than it should, a wooden board that has split and been glued back together, a knife that no longer holds a perfect edge, and a rack that sags under the weight of what it holds.

Each has its flaws, and each is irreplaceable.

The cast-iron pan

A 28cm skillet with a handle so warped it no longer sits flat on the stove. It’s been here since 2019, when it was handed down from a neighbor who swore by it for decades.

The seasoning is patchy now—some spots still hold oil, others have flaked away to bare metal—and it develops hot spots that demand constant stirring.

It taught us that even the best tools fail if you don’t respect their limits. We’ve ruined 12 batches of sauce in it, but every time, the flavor was worth the mess. The pan’s uneven heat is why we now write ‘adjust heat as needed’ into every recipe.

The butcher’s block

A 40cm maple board with a crack running from one corner to the other, held together with wood glue and clamps. It’s been here since 2017, when it was a hand-me-down from a local deli.

The glue line is barely visible now, but if you press hard enough, the crack gives just enough to send a knife blade skipping.

It taught us that some tools are only as good as their weakest point. We’ve sharpened knives on it until the edge turned to dust, but the board itself has never failed—only bent. That’s why every cutting instruction now includes ‘use a stable surface’ or ‘cut away from your body.’

The chef’s knife

A 20cm French-style blade with a handle wrapped in tape to stop it from slipping. The edge is now a serrated mess, held together by hope and a whetstone. It’s been here since 2020, when it was bought secondhand for $15 at a flea market.

The tape is held on with duct tape, and the blade’s spine has been ground down so many times it’s thinner than the manufacturer intended.

It taught us that even the cheapest tools can outlast the expensive ones if you use them right. We’ve sliced through 37 onions with this knife—some raw, some caramelized—and it’s still the one we reach for first. The serrations are why we now warn against ‘rocking’ on hard ingredients.

The wire cooling rack

A 30cm rack with three legs, one of which wobbles when you press down hard. It’s been here since 2018, when it was salvaged from a restaurant’s trash bin. The legs are bent, the wires are rusted in spots, and it sags under anything heavier than a sheet cake.

It’s held together with zip ties and the sheer force of gravity.

It taught us that some tools are only useful if you let them be imperfect.

We’ve cooled 187 batches of cookies on it, and every time, the edges curl just enough to make the recipe feel ‘homemade.’ The sag is why we now specify ‘use a sturdy rack’ for anything that needs even cooling.

What is not in the drawer

This site does not use digital scales, instant-read thermometers, or sous-vide machines. The recipes here are built on what you already have: a stovetop, a timer you can see, and hands that can feel when something is done.

Behind the scenes

I am Priya Abernathy, the founder and editor of Pie Recipes Pan. My job here is to make sure every recipe works the first time you try it—not the tenth.

My dad’s old recipe box—filled with yellowed index cards and smudged handwriting—was the first thing I ever really loved in a kitchen. Every weekend, I’d pull out the cards and try to recreate whatever my mom had scribbled, usually ending up with something that smelled amazing but tasted like a science experiment.

Priya Abernathy, 2026

What this work has done to me

I can no longer walk into a kitchen without noticing the tools. I see the way a chef’s knife is held, the angle of a wooden spoon in a pot, the way a pan’s handle is gripped.

I’ve burned my thumb twice trying to rescue a dish from the cast-iron pan, and I now flinch every time I see someone use a knife like a saw.

I’ve also learned to trust my instincts. The recipes here are tested until they’re foolproof, but the real magic happens when you adjust for your own kitchen—the way your oven runs hot, the way your hands know when something is done.

What I am for

I am here to take the guesswork out of cooking. No more vague instructions, no more ‘taste as you go.’ Every recipe is tested until it works, and every tool used is one you already own.

My job is to make sure the only thing you’re focusing on is the food—and not whether it’s going to turn out right.

Why any of this matters to you

These tools—flawed, worn, and unglamorous—are what make the recipes here work. They’re not about perfection; they’re about what happens when you cook with real ingredients, real heat, and real hands.

Every page on this site is built on the same principles: no shortcuts, no assumptions, just food that tastes as good as it looks.

You’ll never see a recipe here that requires a gadget you don’t own. The focus is on the basics—what you can do with a pan, a knife, and a little patience. That’s the kind of cooking that actually matters.