The date (3-14) sent me to Google for a place lost in my memory. Quick search of pie shops in St. Louis and there it was, Pie Oh, My! Quick snap of the phone camera of the address and my mouth began watering.
Oh my, pie . . . what kind of pie will I get? Visions of coconut cream, key lime, or perhaps a fruit pie. I love pie! I imagine the difficulty I will have making a decision.
Google maps helps us find the most direct route to the pie shop. Of course, it wasn’t easy sailing, we missed a turn, tried again, traffic prevented us from the exit, but finally we located the shop. Lucked out on a parking spot, anticipation was high.
We entered the shop and joined the line slowly making our way to the register. My eyes searched for a menu board to list the pies, no list. My eyes turned to the cases where pies should be, none in one case, two choices sat on the counter. Concern began crowding thoughts in my mind. Where was the pie?
Finally we are at the register to learn that apple and pecan are the only slice choices left. I am crushed with disappointment, my visions of pie evaporated.
“We do have these five inch pies,” the girl behind the counter offers. Hope springs forth in my heart as she brings out two choices. “This is a blueberry lavender or a caramel apple chile crumb pie.”
“Let’s try the caramel apple,” my husband says. They have just added empanadas to the case. “And let’s get two empanadas,” he adds.
She rings up our order and I’m taken aback by the high price, but we pay and leave. The empanadas are not what we expected. They must have just come out of the fridge, they were stone cold. The pie was saved for home.
Once we are back home, I split the pie.
I would like to say it was the best pie ever, but I can’t. It was okay, glad we tried it, but I won’t be rushing back. Pie, Oh, My! you let me down, you were not the pie shop of my dreams.