We’ve never met, but I live here too. The Chief Pie Officer of Blame Butter hidden in plain sight. This year, I am doing something just for you. Thanksgiving pie, made by me, hand delivered to your door. There is a reason food endures as one of our deepest forms of provenance. Even when language, clothing, or even country is lost, food remains. It carries our traditions forward. It holds our dearest memories. A dish is never just food. It is the person who prepared it, the place you sat in anticipation, and the conversations you had across the table. This is my way of being a small part of that. Your memory will be wrapped, sealed, and waiting in anticipation to grace your table
|The One for Paul| He was a purist, and so was his pie. Apples, peeled and thinly sliced, heavy with cinnamon, and never too sweet. His filling remains but it learned a little whimsy. A thin layer of custard hidden beneath for creaminess and golden cinnamon swirls form the crust. All the flavors of nostalgia, dressed for the occasion.
|The One for Nokx| For the Chef who could never decide between Pecan or Chocolate Chess. Loving them equally, they became one. Toasted pecan filling under a layer of rich Southern chocolate custard (think brownie). Topped with burnt maple marshmallow fluff and finished with candied pecans and cocoa nibs. A reminder that memory, like sweetness, is awakened when shared.
|The One for Poppy| Pumpkin was not found often in London, so when the season arrived, Poppy was always waiting. Brown butter for depth, Japanese pumpkin for earth, and toasted milk meringue for a creamy finish. The perennial symbol that marks the day finally takes its rightful place at the table.
