pie

my entry

Building 14 held a pie contest this afternoon. Seven entries, all different, one slightly disqualified (but consumed) because it was not technically a pie. We hesitate to call it annual, it may have to be seasonal, people are lining up to enter the next one. I entered the kitchen at 5:00 am this morning, because I knew competition would be tough and a pie baked the night before would not be given much credit.
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the trophy

pies lined up and numbered

Pumpkin chiffon, blackberry, persimmon/pear/dried cherry (my entry), apple, blueberry, key lime, fig galette (not a pie, but tasty); butter crust, crisco, lard, and variations; single crust, double, and lattice; scorecards at the ready.

 

 

eating, judging

In the end all were consumed, along with four pots of coffee, Java Rumba, of course.

not much left

And now to tally the scores.

our qualified staff adding up the points

And then the winner.

Sally Santner for her apple

Sally's pie was still warm (file this information away for next time), her butter crust exquisite, the apples crisp with raisins and nuts. By far the best apple pie I have ever eaten. Liz's blueberry, came in second, and my persimmon just a few points behind. Rhys said I had the best presentation (it was the basket), and Bob told me he liked mine the best. So at least I was first with someone. Just wait until next time.

possums

While downloading my day to Mike, well actually describing the lunch I had, I looked out the back door and slowly marching across the porch was a possum. He, she, was heading towards the water bowl we leave out for Gris-gris. Ah, that explains why the bowl is always tipped at a funny angle. The possum is short.

This is not a photo of our little fellow, but a close likeness. I like possums, they eat snails, don't carry rabies (being that they are marsupials), and have never bothered the cats, unlike the nasty raccoons, that have caused us several vet bills. And they are cute in a somewhat, well, possum-like, way.

fall back

I always enjoy this day of the year. Perhaps it's the extra hour of sleep, returned from springing forward. Also being an early morning riser, I am happy to get the hour of daylight in the morning rather that the evening. The days activities already have included reading the paper, breakfast, and the baking of a pear pie. The pie is to be enjoyed after our oyster expedition with friends. The final course in what, I am sure, will be a sumptuous meal.