We find inspiration to write down a thing or two from the most unlikely places. In this case, my inspiration came from my friend’s blog about Rhubarb pie. I better give credit to Rusty’s wife, Snookums, who actually baked the pie that Rusty was able to enjoy with great pleasure.
My little story beings like this …
There was a very small diner (back in the day) that made the most delicious pies. Rhubarb pie being one of them, and it was Mom’s favorite. Mine was Apple. Dad liked the Black Bottom pie.
On a rare occasion, we all enjoyed a Pecan pie. That’s “PEE-can” for those of you from the South, which my parents were not, so they said “Pa-kawn.” Think Yankee and that’s how they pronounced it. I could go either way.
Inside the diner were maybe 10 stools at a counter … could have been 12 … and a small refrigerated bakery case for pies and most likely other sweet treats.
The diner had a drive-up window where customers in cars would line up around the small building waiting to pick up their pies.
If you returned your pie tin (from a previous purchase) then you got a discount on your next pie.
Our family had grown to six, so the pies never lasted that long. We enjoyed them with Reddi-wip or vanilla ice cream on top.
Sometimes (usually Dad) someone (Dad) would stand at the kitchen sink taking a few bites out of his favorite pie while he looked out the kitchen window. He was a man of few words during those pie sneaking times.
You know what? I miss that small diner with its 10 or 12 stools lined up at the counter. It was such a fun place to go to for pie and coffee if you were lucky enough to get inside.
Those were the days …
… yes indeed.
© Catherine Evermore. All rights reserved.