I recently made a life-altering discovery. It's awesome. It's dangerous. It's dangerously awesome.
In a mere seven minutes, I can walk from my front door to the front door of House of Pies. In 20 minutes, tops, I can be snuggled up in bed in possession of far more pie than any one person should ingest in a single sitting.
It's amazing. It's horrible. I can't stop.
During the first few months I lived in the neighborhood, I avoided House of Pies. It looked, to me, like a glorified IHOP, a chain I detest. I figured that, as IHOP had done, it would take one of my favorite foods and turn it into mushy, flavorless cardboard with an $8 price tag. And I have no need for that.
But one Saturday evening, after a glass of wine and a Law & Order marathon with my cat, I found myself hungry at 2 a.m. So after debating the pros and cons of Taco Cabana versus House of Pies, I trekked across a couple of parking lots to the well-lit beacon and took a seat at the bar next to a young girl with green hair and her heavily tattooed mother. And I then ordered a lot of pie.
Admittedly, my expectations for the items on offer at House of Pies were low. I tend to prefer pies made by an elderly relative's loving hands to pie produced en masse for a crowd of people who are mostly under the influence of...something. I was not prepared to fall head over heels in love with House of Pies.
The first pie I tried came at the recommendation of my waitress: Bayou Goo. While the name might not sound terribly appealing (I get visions of sticky green swamp moss), the Bayou Goo is a masterful combination of crumbly pecan crust, a thin layer of slightly sweetened cream cheese, a layer of vanilla and chocolate swirled custard with bits of chopped pecan scattered throughout, a generous dollop of whipped cream and, finally, another sprinkling of pecans.
I was certain, certain, that the pie would be overly sweet and possess a crust that was neither flaky enough to break with my fork nor hardy enough to contain the multitude of gooey or juicy toppings within. I was wrong on both counts. Even the Bayou Goo, a custard-filled cream pie, had just the right amount of sweetness, and the crust stood up well under the heft of all those local Texas pecans. One pie in, and I was hooked.
I ordered two more slices that night -- cherry and pecan -- and though they weren't quite as good as the Bayou Goo, they continued to exceed my expectations. After I walked (or, rather, waddled) back to my apartment, I sat down with my computer and did some research.
