Though one wouldn't guess it, considering how rarely I write about epicurean delights here, I am actually something of a foodie. So a brief interlude from our regularly scheduled shameless debauchery and costume lust for an ode to the humble pie, one of my most favorite desserts.
I had a most sublime pie-eating experience last weekend at a coffeeshop ~ house-made blackberry-rhubarb pie, and it was perfect. Buttery flaky light crust, tangy sweet fruit, and a big dollop of very lightly sweetened handmade whipped cream ~ heaven on a plate.
And I'd choose pie over cake any day. My love for pie is so strong that when Stache and I got married, we refused to have cake for our wedding feast. Instead we requested a pie potluck, which resulted in the delight of dozens of varieties of pie, all spread out on a long table as far as the eye could see.
Amazingly, we were not eating processed sugar or white flour in those days, and a family friend who owns a bakery made us a rather glorious whole-wheat-crust, honey-sweetened, triple-decker ginger pear pie for our very own.
Who can deny that home-made pie makes everything better?