As we drove to West Glacier National Park we happened to pass a small place called The Huckleberry Pie Patch which held the promise of really great pie! After a day visiting MacDonald Lake, taking a stroll up the Avalanche trail, and admiring the water run off from the mountains. My appetite was very large from all of the fresh mountain air and as we left the park I exclaimed “We just have to stop at that pie place! I never had huckleberry pie!”
My husband “Sure! It will be great for dessert!”
We stopped in at the Patch to pick up the pie and never thought to question the price.
The clerk looked at us “Thirty dollars. Please.”
My husband of Scotsmen ancestry looked a little pale as he forked over the cash knowing he could not walk away from a good pie or face the wrath of his ravenous wife.
As we stepped out the door he looked at me with his empty wallet he grumbled ” This better be good pie.”
I smiled with beaming optimism! I knew I had found a gem “It feels pretty heavy and it smells good.”
We made it back to the camper and started cooking dinner for the evening.
The pie sat there looking at us waiting to be eaten.
I poured a glass of wine and thought “What the heck?”
And cut a very large slice of Huckleberry pie before supper. It was good. Really good.
SO good that I had to have another slice after supper. The next morning for breakfast and an afternoon snack the following day.
It was after several days of huckleberry pie I came to the decision that you cannot really put a price on good pie! Thirty dollars be damned it was worth every penny!
What is the most you ever spent on a pastry? Was it worth it?