Riding shotgun on the faceless stretches of an interstate highway during her trek from home to family for the Thanksgiving holiday, my hungry cousin took to Facebook on her smartphone for boredom relief.
“What’s your favorite holiday pie???” she posted. “(I need entertainment and I’m hungry!!!)”
Over the course of the next five hours, a motley crew of family and friends waxed poetic about the pie of their deepest desire.
Pumpkin, pecan, (and its mature cousin bourbon pecan,) strawberry rhubarb, apple (with chocolate ice cream), mince, blueberry, chocolate cream, key lime, and lemon meringue rounded out the list for which most drooled.
“Does cheesecake count?” one friend asked with a winky-smiley-face emoji.
“Does a bear crap in the woods?!!” came the reply.
“Pizza pie. That counts, right?” asked another.
“It has ‘pie’ in the name and therefore counts,” my cousin replied. “I can totally get behind this.”
Yet another posted, “Cake???”
You know the answer, without a doubt, absolutely.
Everyone is invited to the party.
Everyone is invited to the party.
Introductions were made, recipes and stories were shared, and I was reminded of the Library of America’s short story pick for this week:
http://storyoftheweek.loa.org/2016/11/the-tyranny-of-pie.html
George Augustus Sala |
In ‘The Tyranny of Pie', one article he wrote of his trek, Sala provided a brief insight into his pie-consuming experiences while he traveled through our country.
“It is a Fetish. It is Bohwani. It is the Mexican carnage god Huitchlipotchli, continually demanding fresh victims. It is Moloch,” Sala wrote of the nation's obsession with pie.
"(O)ne topic of conversation is no longer the Almighty Dollar - but to the tyranny of Pie there is no surcease," he observed.
"(O)ne topic of conversation is no longer the Almighty Dollar - but to the tyranny of Pie there is no surcease," he observed.
"Men may come and men may go; the Grant “Boom” may be succeeded by the Garfield “Boom;” but Pie goes on for ever.”
As an applicable metaphor for the spirit and complexion of Americans he said, “the worst of this dreadful pie – be it of apple, of pumpkin, of mulberry, or of cranberry – is that it is so very nice.”
A possible allusion to the unassuming way Americans make the best things about life accessible he wrote, “(Pie) is made delusively flat and thin so that you can cut it into conveniently-sized triangular wedges, which slip down easily.” In contrast to “roast beef of Old England” which is expensive and much harder to come by.
We’ve added cheesecake, cake, and pizza to our pie repertoire. I love my cousin for underlining this.
photo by chef david burke fabric |
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/26/dining/forget-turducken-its-piecaken-time.html
The worst of this dreadful pie is that it is all so very nice.