Years back, I found myself in Italy with quite a lot of apricots. In Florence, I bought a very generous kilo of fresh, ripe apricots from a little farm stall on the Piazza Santo Spirito. My daughter and I ate quite a few of them as we strolled around the city. Then we had some for breakfast the next day, then a couple more in the rental car as we made our way down to Chianti, where we would stay another week with friends and where I would finally get my hands into a kitchen.
That left us with over a pound of apricots (a kilo is 2.2 pounds) and by now they were bruised, oozy and brown, and definitely past their prime for munching. The only thing to do was to make pie.