jakorte's blog

I accompanied a friend of mine who designs and makes jewelry on a trip to the Gem & Rock Show at the Fulton County Fairgrounds. The Ohio show is a big one, and she’d asked me to go down with her to help with sales. Her store used to be next to our store, Michigan Hot Sauce Club, in Tecumseh. That made me a lucky gal – there was always plenty of jewelry available for gifts.

Truth is I was leaning toward going with her anyway, when she tried to sweeten the deal. “Tomorrow," she said is a near reverent tone, “there will be rhubarb pie." I loved Nannee Vincze, my husband’s maternal grandmother, but I had never met a pie I didn’t like until I was served a piece of her strawberry-rhubarb pie.

I can’t remember how it turned out this way, but my brother from Lansing and my husband pretty much polished off what was left of that pie, while I stood by scrunching up my nose in distaste.

With that in mind, I told my friend, “Sorry, that’s a deterrent not an enticement!" “What?" she choked. “You don’t like rhubarb cream pie?" Now, I’d never had rhubarb cream pie, but since it was rhubarb, and I only had one rhubarb experience to judge on, I imagined the worst.

At lunch time, out came the pies. At the lunch counter, my friend was first in line. She carefully and lovingly carried a significantly sized piece of pie through the crowd to back to our booth, and ceremoniously offered me a taste. I declined. She insisted. I declined. She insisted. For the sake of our friendship, I eventually gave in. Fork in one hand and a diet coke in the other, I was expecting the worse and I was prepared for it.

Wow whee! That pie wasn’t good. It was awesome. I sprang up, grabbed my purse and set off in search of my own piece. There were only 2 pieces left. I shifted from foot to foot, waiting in line, hoping no one else walked off with “my" piece. One was finally mine. I had to give my friend back the bite I took off hers. I tried to eat it slowly, savoring the thick sweet custard and the back-bite of the rhubarb. Cheeks soured-in, tongue tingling, I had found a new divine treat. I remember thinking, “It’s a very good thing that there aren’t any more pieces of that pie left."

Round about supper time, my friend headed off to the lunch counter (dinner counter, whatever) for a sandwich, and came back with a piece of... wait! Could that really be another piece of rhubarb cream pie? Yes, I practically knocked her over trying to get out of the booth. A neighboring dealer wanted to know what the fuss was about, so my friend let her try bite. Our new friend loudly declared the pie to be “like sex on a plate!"

Soon, there was a swarm – a line of dealers not so patiently waiting for pie. I was lucky enough to get another. About ½ way through that piece, my tongue started to smart, and I got that way-to-sweet kind of feeling in my tummy. Didn’t stop me, though. It was quite unusual for me, but I ate the whole thing.

Somehow we got to discussing how many pieces of pie my husband Jeff might have eaten if he had the pleasure of the “RCP experience." “Pieces?" I laughed, “Jeff’d been up there buying a whole pie to take home. And if he didn’t do it on his own, I would have made him do it."

PS.I found out that paticular pie comes from the Historic Sauder Village in OH. Never been there, but I’m thinking about going before the holidays.