My mom loved going out to eat. It was not unusual to find us shopping followed by a trip to Cheesecake Factory or Baker’s Square. Pie. That’s where it was at. We would have a salad…because isn’t that healthy…followed by a slice of pie to take home.
I was just discussing this with my father-in-law last night. We were not a dessert kind of family. It was reserved for holidays and maybe birthdays. When we did have dessert it was a family sized fruit cocktail or the occasional Toll House pan cookie. None of use really have ever enjoyed cake. I wouldn’t have even had it at my wedding if it wasn’t a tradition that my husband thoroughly enjoyed.
GASP. I know. Right?
But pie. That is something we have always liked. My mom never made a pie that I can recall, but she was an expert at picking one up from Poppin’ Fresh. I totally just dated myself. We would save the pie tins and return them for a discount on the next one. When my Grandma passed, we found dozens of them in the cabinets.
So today, in honor of Pi(e) Day, I shall eat a slice.
I am writing for the 2019 March Slice of Life Challenge