My Baby's Got Pie

My husband comes from a long line of really good cooks. No chefs, ya' hear? Cooks. Oklahoma and Arkansas soul food the likes of which my North Easterner's mouth had never tasted before.

Comfort food for him includes black-eyed peas, corn bread, and greens -- don't forget the chow-chow. Many soul food purists would scoff at the fact that my husband fixes these things without meat. One former resident of Charleston South Carolina asked me, "What is the point of greens with no ham hocks?"

(Do you know what ham hocks are? Do you want to know? I don't -- so go google.)

But he sees the point, and so do I. I love his mom's biscuits and no one has ever made okra I could eat except his Grandma. But my belief in this down-home cooking gets no stronger than when it comes to pie. My husband makes excellent pie, God bless him.

Yesterday he asked me, "Should I make a pie?"

You silly boy...there is only one answer to that.

Who had nectarine and cherry pie for dessert tonight?

Me.

Whoo-hoo. I married the right man.