CHELSEA, New York—IT was another ordinary evening at the apartment of L. Gilbert when a knock came at her door. “Who is it?” she asked, tentatively. “Pie man,” answered the voice at the other end.
That voice belonged to none other than the Amateur Gourmet who made the rounds tonight with his nectarine pie with candied ginger and crunchy topping.
“Come in!” cheered L. Gilbert.
Luckily, D. Weisberg was also present.
“Did somebody say pie?” asked D. Weisberg.
“I did,” said the Amateur Gourmet.
There was an awkward silence.
“May we eat some?” queried L. Gilbert.
“Yes,” answered pie man.
Everyone grabbed forks. Everyone digged in:
D. Weisberg (pictured left) is not a fruit pie person. “I’m not really into fruit desserts,” she said, carefully. “I’m a chocolate mama.”
“I like all desserts,” responded L. Gilbert. “I just don’t like crust.”
“I like crust,” said D. Weisberg, “I just don’t like fruit.”
They stared at eachother eagerly. “It’s like we were born to eat pie together,” said L. Gilbert softly, stroking D. Weisberg’s face. D. Weisberg cupped L. Gilbert’s busom and began feeding her pie. The Amateur Gourmet began an interpretive dance. A good time was had by all.