I like pie. No. If I’m honest, I’d actually have to admit that I love pie. Apple. Pecan. Pumpkin. Coconut Crème. If it’s pie, I’m in. When I watch a movie like Waitress or a TV show like Pushing Daisies, both of which feature exotic pie-making, I have to keep a napkin nearby in case I begin to leak around the mouth area.
Growing up, my mom and I would go to Poppin’ Fresh Pies (which later became Baker’s Square) just to have pie…Chocolate Silk for me (sometimes Bavarian Crème) and usually peach for her. Last week, some obscure chamber of my culinary memory cracked open and the craving for strawberry-rhubarb spilled out, my mom’s favorite pie to make from scratch. So I hunted for the ingredients and made one. Oh, yes. Happy belly.
It reminded me just how much I love pies. Not just some pies. All pies. And it made me realize that there are no pies I hate, only pies I haven’t yet learned to love. Just like people.
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