I’m not much of a mathematician.
Now, I can respect the folks who can sit down and explain why 3.14159265359 goes on forever. That is impressive work, but if you want to get my attention, you put an “e” on the end of Pi. Because I am less of a numbers guy and more of a connoisseur of a good pie.
A savory chicken pot pie or a shepherd’s pie can warm up a Midwestern dinner table on a bitter January night. Something about steam rising from the crust and the smell of gravy and vegetables says you are exactly where you need to be.
The Fourth of July doesn’t really begin until someone cuts into a warm apple pie and drops a scoop of cold vanilla ice cream on the side. The ice cream melts into the crust just enough to make a beautiful mess.
Then Thanksgiving rolls around, and the annual debate begins between pecan pie or pumpkin pie. Families have quietly divided into camps over that argument for generations. A pie disagreement is much better than a political one on that Thursday in late November.
Some of my best memories sit at an old kitchen table with my gramma and great aunts. They would pull fresh strawberry-rhubarb or blueberry pies out of the oven. The crusts perfectly browned and resting in pie tins so sturdy they could double as a bulletproof vest.
And then there are the diners in small Indiana towns. Breakfast or lunch finished, coffee cup half empty, and the waitress casually asks if you saved room for pie. That is when the Hoosier sugar cream pie enters the picture.
It is a beautiful thing. Smooth and creamy, almost like a crème brûlée in pie form, with a cinnamon-dusted top and a buttery crust that holds everything together.
Sugar cream pie traces its roots back to the Amish kitchens of Indiana. During the Depression it became a staple because it was simple, inexpensive, and made from ingredients most families already had on hand.
Now I am a Chicago guy through and through. I love my hot dogs and Maxwell Street Polish. Italian beef dripping through the wrapper. Thin crust pizza, tom-toms, gyros and pizza puffs.
But take me down to Greensburg, Shipshewana, or Kokomo. Sit me down with a pork tenderloin sandwich and a slice of sugar cream pie for dessert, and you might hear my Chicagonese soften just enough to pick up a little Hoosier twang.
So happy Pi — or Pie — Day, Chalkheads.
Head over to your local bakery and treat yourself to your favorite slice.
Cold and cloudy in Chicagoland today. Which, if you ask me, is the perfect kind of day to spend with someone you love and share a piece of pie.
Just try not to get crumbs in the bed.
