My mother was never a very inspired cook — not that I blame her. I would no doubt have gone insane being responsible for feeding oh, 6, 7, 8, or 9 people every day for 25 years or so. (I can barely handle one meal for Mike and me.) I remember many occasions as a kid asking her in the morning “what’s for supper?” and her saying “I have no idea.” I’m sure she didn’t, and I’m quite certain she didn’t appreciate the question.
She did teach me how to make pie, though, at a fairly young age (10). Like you, probably, I’ve always had ideas in my head for what I’d like to do when I grow up. One of them is to have a pie shop. What to call it? Pie in the Sky? Easy as Pie? Sweetie Pie? Slice of Heaven? 3.1415? Maybe just ∏? (a la Prince). Or a little broader…Just Desserts? (I like baking other goodies, too.)
Fun to think about, but I’m sure the reality of it wouldn’t be. Once you HAVE to do anything it becomes work…and the legalities and logistics involved (bakers have to get up in the middle of the night, right?) — nevermind!
But can’t you just see it? (And smell it!) A cheery little storefront. Pies in a case — lemon meringue, apple, peach, pecan, raspberry, coconut cream. A few bistro tables. Coffee, tea, milk. Ice cream or whipped cream.
A sweet dream. But for now, reality is pretty great, too — being able to look forward to the perfect “a little of each, please” ending to another wonderful Thanksgiving feast. May yours be equally blessed. I better get rollin’.
Seize the moment. Remember all those women
on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.
~ Erma Bombeck
Writing by Ear 
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