Oh man, do I love pie.
I’ve got nothing against cake and will hardly ever turn down a piece of fluffy goodness if offered. But pie! Mmm. The buttery flakey goodness of pie crust, combined with the slightly-sweet-but-mostly-tart fruit filling. Mmm-mmm. Don’t get me started on custard-filled pies.
I wasn’t always a pie person. I have to admit that in my early years I was a gooey chocolate brownie sundae kind of gal. But then I met Dan, who one year requested a pie for his birthday instead of a cake (gasp!), and it was a done deal from there on out. Once you get to know a pie, and learn to appreciate its simple rules and total free form willy-nilly insides, there is no turning back. Someday, perhaps I’ll have my own pie shop. I’ll call it the Pie Hole.
Pie is good any time of year, but fall is a pie-maker’s season. Apple pie is a humble standard, but Thanksgiving brings out the bourbon-infused, pecan pumpkin crazy lady in me. The late summer blueberry season gets me excited, and then fall hits and BAM! It’s really pie season.
And so, fall approaches in the fair metropolis of Tokyo, and I find myself without an oven, without a pick-your-own orchard, and without pie. Can someone please make this and just tell me how good it is? Or, maybe not tell me. I don’t want to know.