I don’t think I’ve met a person who doesn’t thoroughly enjoy a party pie. And I’m not talking that “traditional” party pie you had at every single children’s birthday that’s piled into a silver tray and tepid by the time you get off the jumping castle and fill your plate…I’m talking about, The Adult Party Pie.
Yes. You know exactly what I mean. The Adult Party Pie is an upgrade from the minced beef thing. It’s crunchy crust, it’s gourmet fillings, it’s tenderness and warmth compiled into a little container of tasty pastry goodness. It’s the type of pie your company provides you with on a professional development day. You look forward to this moment from the instant your computer notified you of mail the week before, and the agenda was received. You scanned the itinerary for that one bold, blissful sentence: “lunch provided.” You know deep down, that the best part of this day that is void of actual work, will be the minute session four ends, and it’s time to eat.
There are some challenges associated with The Adult Party Pie, however. It could be said that one of those challenges is the scrutinising stares you cop from fellow staff members standing in the line watching as you fill your plate with 2-3 of The Pies…but the look isn’t because they think you’re being greedy. It’s because they are still 4-5 persons away from the plate of Pies, and the risk of missing out is threatening and imminently looming.
The second noted challenge associated with eating The Adult Party Pie is the part where you actually consume it. That glorious moment that it travels, steaming, from the tiny openings where pastry has become overwhelmed with heat and popped open, from the plate to your expectant mouth. You open up for The Pie to enter…you take the first bite…and this slow motion moment comes to an abrupt halt as your mouth registers the temperature of the dang thing. It’s too late. Your teeth entered the lid of The Pie and progressed downwards. The roof of your mouth came into contact with the gourmet filling, and it, along with your tongue, is now a burnt up mess. You can fill the skin peeling slightly, it is a funny type of painful…and your pie eating experience has ended. No longer can you take pleasure of the crunchy-bits-in-all-the-right-places. No longer can you indulge in the pleasures of a grown up Party Pie. And the admin lady featured earlier is smirking at you from two tables away as she peels off the lid of her Adult Party Pie and blows on it to cool down the contents.
This blog is a compilation of some of my thoughts and dreams that have marinated for long enough that I can form sentences with them.
I am the mother of one toddler and one pregnant belly, the wife to one man, a friend to many, a sister to two and a daughter. Recently returned from eight months in Europe, having fulfilled a long anticipated dream of living in France.