Peach Pie and why I am a Master BS Artist.

Ok, I'm screwed. I have lived with the belief that I hate Pie since I was a small child. Who would want to eat jelled, gooey fruit encased in a salty crust. I love Chicken pot pie but that is a savory dish so it's understandable. To this day I can't tell you what apple pie or cherry pie taste like because the thought of eating them makes me sick to my stomach. Cinnamon covered, piping hot, limp apples does not sound appetizing at all.

I remember when I was seven and my family had moved from West Virginia to Maryland. A very nice lady from our new church took my older sister and I to a Carnival. We had so much fun, the Ferris Wheel and the Stuffed Animals. The Cotton Candy and the Pop Corn. I had never been to a Carnival before so I had the time of my life. Given my current track record with good times, I should have known that some tired shit was about to happen.

After the Carnival this nice lady took us to her house to have some dessert. I was ready for a nice thick slice of Chocolate Cake with a big dollop of Cool Whip or Cherry Jello. Do you know what this woman did. Here I sit awaiting my Chocolate when instead of Cake she slides a hot, bubbling bowl of Blackberry Cobbler under my nose. I have never in my life gone so quickly from a feeling of sheer happiness to complete horror in my life.

I was brought up in a household where my mother, every night as we all ate dinner would tell me " don't stuff yourself, If you don't want it don't eat it". Unfortunately, I was and am a rather timid person. How could I tell this nice lady that had entertained me all day that I didn't want to eat the cobbler that she had prepared for my sister and I. I can still smell that cobbler, sour and nauseating. The juices were almost black but left a purple residue on the sides of my bowl and the crust was still white and gooey.

That was the exact moment that I became a pretty great conversationalist. I lifted that fork to my mouth a hundred times and as soon as she would make a statement I would immediately drop it and ask her all about her flour garden, her children in college, her devotion to the lord. This must have gone on for an hour as my sister who has no problem with pie (or any other food as a matter of fact) giggled under her breath and kicked me under the table. I can't believe that she really thought I was interested but it worked and I never tasted that black disaster.

Anyway....This past Mother's day, I decided that I would make my mom a peach pie. I have never baked a pie in my life and especially never from scratch but I figured that homemade was the only way to go. After I removed it from the oven I couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of my creation and decided that I would take a little bite just to see if it tasted as bad as I had always imagined. Well, maybe it was the bourbon, maybe it was the holiday but I'll be damned if it wasn't delicious. I ate two pieces that night with a big scoop of Ice Cream. Everyone loved it so I decided to make another one yesterday. Maybe it was the memory of my Mother's day pie or maybe it was the adrenaline rush that I get when people compliment my cooking but this one was even better.

Damn...All these years. This is the last thing that I need. I am trying to diet and be healthy so the last thing that I need is another confection obsession. You see, I have a sweet tooth so strong that it's about to fall out and I can't afford to like pie now.

My freezer is already full of fudge pops, my cabinet full of Little Debbie that little twit. I'm just not gonna make them any more. Damn...Well atleast I learned how to hold a proper conversation because of this...