Sunday, November 27, 2011


It is rather a great pity that there are so few places for pie in the Financial District. None, in fact, that beckon on a Saturday. Sometimes you just want pie. One slice, that's it. A whole pie is far too large for one person, and can you imagine the amount of whipped cream that would require?

We are in the time of pie. And chocolate. And strange inedible candies unavailable at any other time.
Yes, sometimes the stress that these things give us is too much. Especially after the third wedge, at which point all we want to do is hide under a nice warm blanky and pretend that the holiday season is over. Twenty minutes later we crawl out, hesitant, noses twitching....
Is that pie I smell?
I had to eat it, you understand. It was calling me.

Fortunately, this year I am better able to resist. I am neither baking, nor purchasing any pie this year.
Indeed, I do a damn' fine pecan pie, as well as a pretty good mixed fruit pie. And southern short-crust has no mysteries.
But the heck with it. If I allow myself to be co-opted into this whole ridiculous holiday spirit thing, the next thing you know I'll be watching bad movies and lots of football, as well as going to the mall and pepperspraying people standing between me and an x-box.

Instead, I remain aloof. Especially on weekends, when I am thirteen floors above the Financial District.
I may dream of pie, here at my desk in a nice peaceful office, but there is none to be had.

Peach pie, apple pie, rhubarb pie, cream pie, mixed fruit pie, pecan pie, custard pie, sweet potato pie, coconut pie, chess pie, shoo-fly.....

Cream pie.....


Cream pie is especially dangerous. One always gets sweet globs on one's nose, or chin. Or gloopings falls inconveniently on one's clothes. Gobs of delicious dairy.
Ideally one should eat cream pie naked, so that it does not mess one's garments. And, you understand, that absolutely requires another person, so that cat-like the two people eating the cream pie can lick each other clean. Some pie just tastes better nude.
Not in this weather, though. The idea of happy tandem bare cream pie eating takes a backseat to staying warm.
Baby, it's cold outside! Freezing!
Far far better to crawl under the covers and simply imagine pie.
You, me, two steaming cups of cocoa, and a fabulous book of baked goods.
Together, we will conquer the evil forces of midwinter insanity. And their pies.
Or fall asleep trying. Mmm, toasty! Nice warm blanky, and a pie-imagining person.

Can you honestly think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon while everyone else is out going mad in the shopping district?

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