So we leave the place and start to head home thru the East Village, planning on stopping at a few of the bakeries. None have the pie. There was a crazy foaming at the mouth guy at one bakery who volunteered that he used to pick blueberries as a child. I looked him in the eye and said 'I just want some blueberry pie dude, I don't care what you used to do' and started for the exit. He responded with 'thanks for the compliment.' Whatever, freak.
I was a man on a mission.
When we got home, we started calling around to diners and found a place a few blocks from my house. Yes, The Gramercy Cafe had the pie! We were on our way.
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I could end my weekend a happy man. I sure do love me some Blueberry Pie.
1 comment:
I like pie.
I also like to kill deer.
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