Peeled Onion Dream Pie

“Just peel the onion,” they say.
“Peel back the layers
and see what you find.”

I say “Nothing,” but I am wrong.

Nothing is just what I found
at the time,
but now I know it’s full of space,
and space of course is full of stars.

So we talk about observation,
seeing time move, and
wondering when
and how
simple viewing
moved its way
through the amygdala
to turn itself into critical thinking.

To make this pie,
I suggest you start with
just one large,
unfathomably sweet
Vidalia onion.

Peel it back
until you all you can see is
stars, motion,
and mathematics.

Opine to your heart’s desire.

Percolate.
Steep overnight.
Reflect, and finally
inject with just enough emotion
to give it that special zip.

Spread over a thick skin
of bread dough and minced onion.

Bake in a wood-fired adobe oven
in the dark heart of night
just north of Nogales
while you sing with coyotes
and breathe in the same stars
that you formerly
could not see inside the onion.

Serve in a paper bag.

Try to think your way out of it.

Leave the Pieces When You Go

I haven’t slept well this week, which I can only blame on the gibbous waning moon, and just being out of whack in general.

Perhaps you already know the three concepts that I hold so dear, especially here at the Slice of Heaven 24-Hour Pie Shop & Driving Range: Whack, Couth, and Shift. If I’m getting out of whack, it may be that there is a shift in the works and that I must maintain my couth.

Or I could just be over tired.

At any rate, here’s The Wreckers song playing in my head right now:

And it's alright, yeah, I'll be fine
Don't worry about this heart of mine
Just take your love and hit the road
There's nothing you can do or say
You're gonna break my heart anyway
So, just leave the pieces when you go


Mixtape from http://favtape.com/search/the wreckers leave the pieces branch album

Evolution or Creation?: The Story of Eggs Benedict Pie

In 1894, the story goes, Lemmy Benedict, bored and hungover, told the chef at the Waldorf Astoria that we wanted something different for breakfast. What he ordered doesn’t seem all that different: poached eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. But he also asked for a pitcher of hollandaise sauce, and proceeded to build his own treat. The chef, Oscar Tschirky, later made his own variation, and put it on the menu with English muffins and sauteed ham, but Lemmy never approved of Oscar’s version. No, the real deal was the way Lemmy made it and that was that.

The history of Eggs Benedict is now more than 100 years old, and if you do want to read more about it, here’s a fine article:
http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/08/nyregion/thecity/08eggs.html?pagewanted=1

What you’ll find out though is that a lot of people have taken a whack at creating the E. B., but like so many things in life, all they can do is build on the original idea, the one where Lemmy Benedict ordered up that pitcher of sauce.

Toast or muffins? Toast or artichoke hearts? Salmon instead of ham? I’d be willing to try any of them, especially if I were at the Waldorf Astoria with a hangover.

Here, at the Slice of Heaven 24-hour Pie Shop and Driving Range, we have our own delectable version of Lemmy’s dish: Eggs Benedict Pie. We make it in an individual serving dish with a breadcrumb crust, baked with brushed butter, topped with piping hot Canadian bacon, two poached eggs, and as much hollandaise sauce as you can stand, garnished with one of those cute little sprigs of parsley, just for a touch of color, and and sprinkling of paprika.

If we served liquor, we’d give you a Bloody Mary, too, but we don’t, so you’ll have to settle for our trademarked Bloody Shame. But if you slip in a bit of something from your own hip flask, we won’t try to stop you.

Want to go the vegetarian route? We are willing to negotiate. Just remember. At the Slice of Heaven 24-hour Pie Shop and Driving Range, we use only real ingredients.