I’ve been thinking a lot about pie at the moment. Part of that is down to a book I have been reading and part of that is a bit of me longing for another road trip.
I had possibly the greatest road trip of my life with my Mom this Summer. We travelled from Indiana to Virginia to see my sister and over the course of our two day road trip we went through the heart of Amish country. That was all down to my Mom and Dad’s insightful planning so we wouldn’t bypass anything and I would have ample opportunity to snap away. My parents are always more than helpful, often slowing down or even turning around the car for me to get a shot I’m after.
Our stop going was in SugarCreek, but coming home we stopped at Walnut Creek. it is set farther back from the highway and has much more of a town feel, as the hotel we stayed in, was within the heart of this quaint place.
We ate dinner at the restaurant that night and each got a slice of pie for dessert. I love pie! I am a pie girl, well I am really any kind of dessert girl. There is something so wholesome about an old-fashioned iced cake or a big slice of pie, stuffed high with filling or mountains of whipped cream on top.
This particular evening I was in a cream pie mood and so, I ate, what I think was the best slice of chocolate cream pie of my life. The crust was flaky and tender, the filling had set up perfectly and the chocolate was just the right amount of sweet and oh, the whipped cream, it was pillowed on so high I could imagine little Renaissance cherubs nestled in its folds.
The weather has changed, Fall is here, tonight we turn back our clocks and evening will creep in earlier. The leaves are turning red, orange and golden hues. I know the leaves are changing in Walnut Creek, I know that soon it will be time for pumpkin pie and steaming hot coffee.
I could be with my Mom today. I could see the leaves change in Ohio. I could ride those backroads with her, past the corn fields and pumpkin patches, past the white clapboard farmhouses with the tidy yards and the telltale black and deep blue clothes hanging from the porch line. Past the cows and pigs and sheep. Past the maple syrup farm and the little dirt road with the old wooden sign leading you to the “sugar camp”, over the hills, being careful of buggies and the Amish who are riding bikes or walking, to this restaurant.
This beacon of happiness that sells pretty much every pie imaginable and we would sit and we would chat and we would laugh and drink sweet tea and eat pie and just be happy to be in each other’s company, because that is what pie is all about!
