I like pie.
That’s a well-established fact I’ve said many times in this space. I’ve talked about pie being the reason I love Thanksgiving, the differences between pies and the reason coconut should never be included in any pie recipe.
To paraphrase a little, there’s always room for pie on Thanksgiving, all pies are good, especially fruit pies, and processed coconut is disgusting and should never be in anything. After all, I’ve had raw coconut from a palm tree and it’s awesome. Processed coconut? Nope.
Imagine my joy when I found out there is a National Pie Month. A month-long celebration of pie — apple to mixed berry to rhubarb-strawberry to banana cream — it should be a federal law to have a slice each day of the month.
Unfortunately, there is something wrong with National Pie Month. They made it February.
Don’t get me wrong, I love February. My wedding anniversary is in February, my birthday is late in the month, but a month with 28 days is National Pie Month?
Why isn’t it November?
The day after Halloween and all the chocolate candy one can have in a few hours, why shouldn’t National Pie Month commence? Got to be healthier than a chocolate and sugar-induced comb on Halloween night, right?
It’s the perfect lead-up to Thanksgiving and beyond. A pie recipe a day from Nov. 1 to turkey day would be cool, with people able to make their favorites for the football-filled festival of eating too much.
National Pie Month could be sponsored by whipped cream, because pumpkin pie without whipped cream is good, but not great. Am I right?
Or, warm apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream could be the perfect way for Blue Bunny to sponsor National Pie Month.
This should be happening.
My mother loved to make homemade pies and she always made extra pie crust for us. She would bake the extra, sprinkle it with cinnamon and sugar and we had a great, warm snack. Homemade pie is awesome and it gave my mother and I something to work on together at times while I was growing up.
Let’s face it, we had to have something to bring us together. I was her son, but her daughter, my sister, died at 6 from cystic fibrosis. I was 3.
As male, I grew up playing all the sports I could. I was involved in football, baseball, basketball, wrestling, track-and-field and, for a while, swimming. If it was an organized competitive activity, I was there.
My mom didn’t care for football because, as the nights got cooler, her feet would get cold. She sat in the car waiting for the games to end to take me home. She attended wrestling tournaments, but didn’t understand or like wrestling.
Imagine if I had picked up boxing or MMA?
Basketball was OK, but my mother rarely attended those games. Baseball was a summer, outdoor activity, but even at an early age, I rode my bike to practice and games and she didn’t have to attend, so she didn’t.
In other words, my mother and I had very little in common as I was growing up. However, she liked to bake and I liked pie, so, instant mother-son bonding moment.
My family made our own traditions as I was growing up. Pheasant was Thanksgiving dinner, shot each year by my father and I hunting each fall. We had fresh, homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie each year, instead of pumpkin or apple, made with rhubarb picked from our garden.
Stuffing was always cornbread stuffing.
So, in honor of my parents making Thanksgiving the way they wanted to, I’m declaring November National Pie Month.
Yeah, I know, the official month will stay in February, but it’s wrong. We all know it’s wrong. National Pie Month shouldn’t be crowded by Valentine’s Day. I have enough to celebrate that month as it is now.
So, begin the indulging of daily pie. Send me a favorite recipe. Hand me a pie. Let the celebration begin!
Of course, with February being the official National Pie Month, I can celebrate it then too. Two National Pie Months each year. A win-win!
After all, I like pie.
Roger Bluhm is the managing editor of the Dodge City Daily Globe. Follow him on Twitter @roger_dcglobe or email him at email@example.com.