Friday, April 1, 2016
Today I am grateful for Pineapple Pie. No this is not an April Fools post because good pie is nothing to joke about. I have been off the grid for a couple of days because I had what was supposed to be a little small surgery (in my head) turn out to be full on-abdominal. No details unless you private message me. I don’t want to play out an organ recital that would bore everyone. Also, I might not be posting every day for the next week or so, so don’t panic if I’m not there one or two days. I’m loopy enough to name a new cereal.
A couple of weeks ago, I decide to cave in to my inexplicable craving for cherry pie. We had had dinner at a diner, which is usually the best possible place to eat. I had made good choices for my meal, but this place has great deserts so I asked about cherry pie. She brought it out so I could look at it. Always peruse the pie before ordering! It didn’t look as good as the fantastic streusel-topped raspberry pie I had seen (not eaten) a few weeks earlier on picnic day, but it still looked pretty damned good. I ordered a piece to take home.
Except it wasn’t good. It was awful. With each bite. . .until it was gone. Himself asked how the pie was? “It was terrible!” He looked at me and my licked plate like I had rocks in my head. . .again. “The crust tasted like the cardboard you’d put in a hobo’s shoe, the filling was rubbery and if there was even one whole cherry in there, I am Twiggy!” He asked why I ate it. . .which is a very, very good question. It was so stupid to eat it that I’m still talking about it weeks later! That tasteless sucker had as many calories as pie that tastes great. It stunk, really stunk, but I ate it anyway just because I had paid for it.
Fast forward to Easter and my sister telling me she was trying a new recipe for pineapple pie. Yum. That sounds good. She posted pictures and the pies looked as good as they sounded. I joked all over Facebook that I was still waiting for my piece of pineapple pie to arrive in the mail.
The day I went in for surgery. . .it unexpectedly did. My wonderful, crazy-nuts sister dropped a bundle of cash to get that pie here before it went zotz. Can you believe that? I was very pleasantly shocked. John asked if I wanted it brought to the hospital. Uh. . .no! Pie deserves a more gracious setting. Especially good pie!
So today, before I needed to take more pain meds, I made a cup of coffee, topped it with some no-fat, no-calorie, never-saw-a-cow-whipped-topping, and dove into that battered and bruise, mushy around the edges, completely wonderful piece of pineapple pie. I made eating it into a spiritual experience, making it last a half an hour, savoring every delicious bite. Way, way worth it!!!! Thanks, Jutes! The moral of the story. Never eat bad pie! Life is too short!