Pie of Week: A summer classic pairing

On an August afternoon, a slice of strawberry-rhubarb pie with strawberry ice cream. An ode to the season. 

Slice, Sip, Repeat

About a decade ago, I stumbled upon pie and booze. Not just any booze. It was a crafted, thoughtful cocktail. My gateway pairing? 

A slice of cherry pie with a cherry Old Fashioned.

It happened in the Pacific Northwest, where the food scene has a knack for surprising you in the best possible way. The bartender told me the bourbon had been infused with fresh cherries for over a week, and they’d swapped out regular bitters for cherry bitters. The result? A deep, fruity richness that made the pie’s sweet-tart filling sing. It wasn’t just dessert. It was a dessert with a plot twist.

Sadly, some of the pie bars I’ve visited over the years, including a few gems, have closed. Pandemic fallout? Changing tastes? The cruel economics of running a place where bourbon meets butter crust? Who the hell knows, probably a bit of all three. But the dream lives on, because when done right, alcohol and pie are a match made in indulgent heaven. When done wrong… well, let’s just say it’s a breakup you’ll remember.

Pairing alcohol with pie is a bit like matchmaking. It’s about not forcing two personalities that don’t work together.

A few guides can help you avoid dessert disasters:

• Thanksgiving pies + cocktails: Epicurious put together a fantastic guide on which drinks pair best with classic holiday pies. Read it here.
• Pie + cocktails party format: Back in the day, Brooklyn’s Butter & Scotch made a name for itself by combining boozy drinks and sweet slices in one cozy, irreverent package. Their cookbook, Butter & Scotch, is basically a love letter to this concept—and the hardcover is so cheap right now it feels like stealing (legally).
• Pie + wine: I’ve never been a huge wine guy, but this Wine Enthusiast article introduced me to Oloroso, a Spanish sherry. On its own, it’s not my thing. Paired with pecan pie? Absolutely magical.
• Pie + beer: Beer lovers, you’re not left out. This Pies & Pints pairing guide will have you seeing your stout in a whole new light.

The moral of the story? Pie and alcohol aren’t just dessert, It's dessert with booze. And while the pie bar renaissance may have slowed, there’s no reason you can’t bring the magic home. Start with a favorite pie, think about its flavor profile, and pick a drink that complements rather than competes. 

Or just go for it and see what happens!

Pie Hard with a Vengeance: The Handheld Apple Pie Tournament

 Round One — Drake’s vs. Hostess

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the inaugural Pie Hard with a Vengeance. From the sticky countertops of convenience stores everywhere, we bring you the opening bout of our handheld apple pie tournament.

Your referee today is none other than Pi Man, seated at a wobbly elementary school desk, legs cramped by a chair designed for third graders. The discomfort is intentional. It captures the nostalgic spirit of snack food consumption.

In the red corner: Drake’s Apple Pie, born in New York City in 1886. Drake’s has been a Northeast staple for generations, backed by McKee Foods, the folks behind Devil Dogs and Ring Dings. Their apple pies roll out of bakeries in Tennessee, Arkansas, and Virginia, each wrapped with old‑school pride.

And in the blue corner: Hostess Apple Pie, a Kansas City legend since 1919. The same company that gave America the Twinkie now bakes these pies in Kansas, Georgia, and Indiana. Their crust glimmers under fluorescent lights with the confidence of a prizefighter’s robe.

The contest is judged on six factors: Taste, Filling, Crust, Sugar Content, Packaging, and Nostalgia. Two pies enter. One pie moves on. Let the munching commence.

Taste: Drake’s came out strong with a flavor reminiscent of a homemade pie, complete with real apple notes and a subtle touch of cinnamon. Hostess fired back with pure sweetness—less apple pie, more carnival treat. Delicious, yes, but leaning heavily on sugar.

Filling: Hostess showed up with more filling in the middle, though the definition of “generous” in the snack‑aisle world is modest at best. Drake’s was lighter, but still respectable.

Crust: Hostess went flashy, with a shiny glaze that looked like it had been painted on. The sweetness was overwhelming. Drake’s stuck to a sturdier, humbler crust—no frills, just business—and it worked.

Sugar Content: Hostess delivered a sugar rush worthy of a double espresso, while Drake’s kept its balance, letting the apple flavor shine through. Big points for Hostess in this category!

Packaging: Hostess scores points for practicality with a protective box. Drake’s counters with a classic paper wrap, the kind that sparked memories of a pie forgotten in a 7th‑grade locker—remarkably intact months later.

Nostalgia: This category ended in a draw. Both contenders carried decades of lunchbox loyalty.

The Winner: Drake’s Apple Pie—for tasting the most like an actual apple pie.

My verdict is in. Pi Man has spoken.

The Rise, Fall, and Comeback of the Rolling Pin

Pi Man likes cartoons. Maybe you do too. Remember in old cartoons when a character needed to knock some sense into a no-good husband or the nearest anthropomorphic cat? Out came the rolling pin. It was practically the Swiss Army knife of cartoon comedy.

But why the rolling pin? I needed to know. 

The truth is, back in the 1940s, it seems every kitchen had one. The rolling pin was like the family dog—always around, always ready, and occasionally dangerous. People baked constantly. Bread, cookies, biscuits, and—most importantly—pies. If you wanted that perfectly thin, flaky crust, a rolling pin was your best friend. Cartoonists knew their audiences would instantly recognize the tool, which made it the perfect prop for a good old-fashioned comedic bonk on the head.

But let’s rewind a bit. Who came up with this genius invention in the first place? Ancient civilizations were already rolling out dough thousands of years ago using simple wooden or stone cylinders. The rolling pin we know today—with handy handles that don’t pinch your palms—was patented in the mid-1800s by a clever American named J.W. Reed. Ever since, it’s been rolling smoothly through kitchens everywhere.

For decades, the rolling pin was the MVP of the kitchen lineup. But then came the 1950s convenience boom. Suddenly, instead of Grandma rolling out pie crust from scratch, families could just grab a ready-made dessert at the store. Frozen doughs and packaged pies started pushing rolling pins to the back of the drawer. The poor pin only got called up for holiday duty.

Then came 2020, and everything changed. With the world stuck at home, people rediscovered baking. Suddenly, flour was flying off shelves, sourdough starters were being treated like family pets, and—yep—rolling pin sales spiked. The once-retired kitchen workhorse was back in action, flattening everything from pie crusts to stress levels.

So, next time you spot a rolling pin in an old cartoon, give it a nod of respect. It wasn’t just a slapstick weapon—it was a cultural icon, a culinary essential, and, thanks to the pandemic, a comeback kid.