Hope y’all had a great weekend. Ours was particularly sweet. Why, you ask? Buckle up, my friends, ‘cause I can sum it up in two words: Pie Festival. For the uninitiated, which we were, I refer to the 23rd annual Pie Festival hosted by the Malibu United Methodist Church. We’ve lived in Malibu a long time, but somehow we never made it to the Pie Festival until this past Saturday. I really don’t remember what we had going on during the previous years that we considered more important – but we were wrong. So wrong. Nothing is more important than fresh, home-baked pie, (clarification: fresh, home-baked pie created by someone not named Sam Beck). Well, maybe voting is more important, and, okay, the Five Cent Wine Sale at BevMo!, but that’s it. Hubs, son and I headed out to the Festival with a vague idea about supporting a local tradition, and because we thought the little guy would get a kick out of the live music, balloon animals, face painting, and, of course, the pies. He did get a balloon animal, but after that, he was all about the pie. We have a difficult time with decisions, so we walked away from the pie line with a slice of chocolate, (with whipped cream, of course), a slice of lemon, a slice of apple, and a slice of berry. Yes, that’s one more slice of pie than people in our family, but the lemon, apple and berry all qualify as fruit, in my book, and fruit is good for us, so how could we afford to pass up such healthy options? I told my son I’d share the chocolate pie with him. I sat him down at one of the guest tables, put the slice in front of our chairs, and said I’d be right back with our drinks. Five seconds later – seriously, it couldn’t have been more than five seconds -- I returned and the pie was gone! The little guy didn’t even have the decency to look guilty about his gluttony. He just sat there, happily licking chocolate off his face. Apparently, we are still working on the whole “sharing” concept.
Although one of the highlights of the Festival is the pie eating contest, I was a little too self-conscious to chow down on our remaining three slices right there at the church in front of God and everyone. Instead, we packed the slices in some handy to-go boxes they provided and headed home. Now, here we are, Monday morning, and every last crumb is gone. (Well, not gone, gone. They’ll live forever on my rapidly expanding ass). Malibu Pie Festival, I salute you! But I know we’re not the only berg around with a yearly sugar-vice festival. So please spill. What’s your annual guilty pleasure?