Pie | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: Pie | Previous Challenge Entry
By Brad Paulson
10/16/05
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I don’t like to eat fruit. It has weird textures and makes my throat itchy. There are often bruises and blemishes in fruit that should be avoided. My highly intellectual dog will eat garbage, but he won’t eat fruit. I trust his discernment. Stinging insects often make their homes in fruit. Although there are of a multitude of reasons to abstain from eating fruit (the aforementioned list only tips the iceberg), there is a way to tempt me into eating it . . . Pie.

In my opinion, biting into an uncooked ripe peach is as unappealing as biting into the soft underbelly of a small fuzzy mammal. However, that same peach when peeled and properly prepared in a pie, is like a slice of heaven. Aunt Ester made the best peach pies in our family, perhaps the best in the world. The birth of Jesus was foremost in our minds during Christmas, but running a close second was aunt Ester’s peach pie. Her crust was always moist and flaky. She canned her own peaches and had a gift for adding just enough sugar to harmonize with the natural peach juice. The result was a symphony of flavor that delighted each partaker’s pallet. I always found it difficult to believe that such a wondrous concoction could have had its origins from such an unpleasant furry orb.

Strawberry pie was Aunt Thelma’s gift to humanity. In my formative years, summer and strawberry pie were synonymous. I think the secret was that she cooked the strawberries. Some people shovel raw strawberries into a pie crust and call it pie. I call that eating fruit, and I believe I have made my position clear on that subject. Aunt Thelma’s strawberry pie was the kind of pie dreams are made of. Plastic tubs with factory whipped topping never disgraced her refrigerator. Only cream that had been whipped by Thelma’s own hand had the honor of crowning her legacy.

Auntie Helen cornered the market on apple pie. Her trademark was the little apple shaped vent holes in the upper crust. These vents served a dual purpose; they allowed the glorious aroma to escape and provided a tiny window to view the bubbling filling within. If the serpent had tempted Eve with one of Helen’s pies instead of a plain old apple, Adam would have knocked Eve aside to get it first, and men would know the joy of enduring labor pains. Thankfully, for my sake as well as my brethren, Auntie Helen’s apple pies weren’t available until after the fall of man. They were available after the fall of each year, primarily Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Critics will continue to harass me about my unwillingness to eat raw fruit. They speak of vitamins, fiber, and other things that are supposed to promote a healthy lifestyle. I allow them to spout their oratories while I do my utmost to appear interested. Their words drift into one ear and out the other. Thanking them for their opinions, I casually disregard them. They don’t know how to truly enjoy fruit and I pity them. Realizing my good fortune I thank God continually. For He has blessed me with experience and knowledge to fully understand what it means to be fruit full and multi-pied.

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