A Piece of The Pie, DeniedPosted: November 15, 2007
Warning: the following tale is true, and may be difficult to read. All the more so because IT IS TRUE. (And it has nothing to do with the writers’ strike. Nothing at all.)
They say that Hollywood is a cruel town. A town of broken dreams and disappointment. They are correct.
Last night Rick and I attended the last of what had been an enjoyable, informative series of cooking classes. We learned, among other useful things, the best way to chop vegetables, the importance of sharp knives, and a wonderful recipe for Thai chicken curry.
The last class was about dessert. After an initial discussion and tasting of various cheeses – an alternative to sweet dessert – we were asked to turn our attention to the proper technique for making pie. We watched as our instructor, “P,” showed us the secrets to making a flaky, buttery crust. (Names have been disguised to protect the innocent.) Until that night, “P” had been nothing but a gracious and generous teacher, and there was no reason to suspect the horrible act that was soon to occur.
“P” showed us a trick to transfer the rolled-out dough to the pie pan, and how to use scissors to trim it to the correct size. We observed him fill the waiting crust with a mixture of berries – ripe red strawberries, tart raspberries and small but enthusiastic blueberries. We applauded as “G,” a fellow student, volunteered to roll out the top crust. She did so with ease, and “P” then crimped the two crusts together, sealing the delectable berries into their pastry prison. Little did we know that he was also sealing out our very hopes and dreams.
It was at this point that one of us happily remarked upon how nice the pie looked, and how better it would taste! Oh, to go back to those happier times – before we tasted the bitter taste of disappointment, which does not taste good at all.
For it was then that “P” remarked calmly “Why, this pie isn’t for you.”
“What do you mean?” We all cried out in unison, which is very hard to do.
“This is my pie!” He replied, cruelly, his eyes suddenly going all narrow and glowing red.
“But – why?” the confused and hungry class demanded. “We have labored long and hard to make this pie. We should get a piece of it!”
“I do not yet know how big this pie will be. How can I promise to give you some? I have to make sure that there is enough first.”
“Okay, that makes no sense.” We said, still in unison, which only proves how talented we are.
But by then he was gone – into the kitchen to put the pie into the oven. And then he proceeded to show us how to make another incredible dessert, involving warm white chocolate and berries, which totally distracted us from the whole issue of the pie.
The message simply said “The pie was delicious.”
That’s just cruel. I now am forced to go to the store and buy some berries and make my own pie. JUST TO SHOW HIM THAT I CAN.
I will have my pie, and I will eat it too!
Which has nothing to do with the writers’ strike and the attitude of certain people in control who do not want to share the pie. Nothing at all.