Now, then. We all have our little obsessions. Whist games, light bondage before breakfast, shoe shopping, Colin Firth... Mine is pie. It is almost entirely inconsequential what type of pie. I adore it and will do just about anything for it. Particularly if guaranteed good crust.
So today after a hellish sweaty fifty minutes of sit-ups and cardio-torture, Steven insisted that our mid-day meal would be taken at Lois the Pie Queen on 60th and Adeline, Oakland.
"Meal" can be loosely defined as a slice of chilly, oozy about the edges lemon icebox pie and a slice of barely warmed divine pecan pie, accompanied by a classic cup of nearly black, dense coffee.
The owner, a tall handsome be-dreded black man, shook our hands warmly, welcomed us in and plopped us into a window seat. While stopping by at regular 9 minute intervals with the coffee pot, he addressed me only and often as "Sweetie". When I has halfway through my pie duet with an insanely stupid smile on my face, this charming man asked me what paper I wrote for and I had to confess that I did not write for any paper. I did not tell him about us and this little blogg-ish experiment. I did not tell him my passion for crust.
Is there some sign on my forehead saying: "I like to write about pie"? Is it so evident? I am that transparent?! Oh, yes. Yes. Yes.
Lois the Pie Queen (cash only, Sweetie): where mac & cheese and the World's best potato salad are considered vegetables.