mamaw's derby pie.

when walking around the bart station with a homemade pie, it's hard for people not to smile. they stare, too, but they mostly smile. it seems that a young woman carrying a derby pie on a late thursday afternoon invites strangers to sit nearer and ask questions: where are you going? fresh pie, my favorite... who are the lucky recipients? the kids across from me who are eating chips ahoy original chocolate chip cookies are jealous- they haven't had an unprocessed sweet treat in years. in fact, they report they've never had a slice of homemade pie.

and it made me think about how the art of using my hands in the kitchen has been suspended in practice as of late. what a shame. there is so much joy, so much conversation, that comes from the beauty of baking... sweet or savory, it doesn't matter. creaming butter and sugar and adding bourbon and walnuts and chocolate chips to create someone else's mamaw's derby pie... it is so worth it, even if it doesn't turn out just "right." because it meant i received one-more-than-normal smile.

sometimes i crave this stranger's smile as it quickly reminds me of human existence.