Dwight and I have been trying to plan a little get-away since October. Once the markets finished, there was Thanksgiving Day and pumpkin pies. After that, came the Christmas season and gift baskets galore. Once the holidays were behind us, Valentine’s and Sweetie Pies were in full swing. There was George Washington’s birthday and cherry pies, St Patrick’s and Irish Cream Cheesecakes; you get the picture. Well, the 23rd of March we celebrated our 21st anniversary, and since we were busy with an expo that weekend; we decided to hit the road last Friday afternoon.
Actually, it was supposed to be Friday morning, but really turned into early evening. My grandpa turned 90 on Saturday, and I was given the privilege of making his birthday cake. I figured that I’d quick whip out 6 double layer sheet cakes, in a couple of hours Friday morning, and we’d be on our way. Wrong! Eight hours later, I threw my toothbrush into my overnight bag, and crawled out to the suburban.
No matter though, we were on our way. I have desperately been wanting to visit a little pie shop on the outskirts of Chicago called “Hoosier Mama Pie Company.” Friday morning Dwight walked into the kitchen and said, “I hate to disappoint, but the truck just hesitated again.” “I don’t know if we should be taking it all the way to Chicago.” “Maybe we should stick to some place closer, like Shipshewana.”
Hmmm, well, Shipshewana was still away; right?! No, it wasn’t quaint little sidewalk cafes, brownstones, or big city lights. However, I know how my husband thinks. He’s familiar with Shipshewana and knows how to get there. This is what makes him comfortable. That, and the large meat and potato meals from the Blue Gate Inn, in the heart of Shipshewana. Enter the negotiator. Upon quick calculation, I discovered that the Hoosier Pie Mama was actually an hour closer to Shipshewana than it was to Grand Rapids! You see where I’m going with this?!
After a delicious ham dinner at the Blue Gate and a quiet night of rest in our tidy little motel room, we woke up Saturday morning refreshed. “Hon?” I asked cautiously. Always begin with a term of endearment. “Do you think, that since the truck didn’t give us any trouble on the way down here, that maybe we could head on over to the pie company this morning?” He draws a deep breath; his jaw twitches, he begins to press buttons on his cell phone. “Vonnie, I don’t even know how far it is from here.” “Two hours, 23 minutes.” I reply. “That means we wouldn’t even get there until 10:30, with good driving conditions.” I sit quietly on the bed. “What if the suburban quits on us, half way there?” I do not have a good answer, as this truly is a legitimate concern… “Have you been planning this all along?” “Because, you should have told me about it sooner, so that we could have gotten up earlier.” I had actually gotten up at 6:30 am myself…
Well, off we went. To Chicago, McDonald’s caramel latte in hand- not quite what I had in mind, but hey, Starbucks is not right around the corner in Shipsee, andI’ve learned long ago, you can’t have it all! Once Dwight stopped being annoyed at my underhanded maneuvering, he started to lighten up and talk to me again. We discovered that toll booths are not your friends. And never, I mean never, pick the lines that say “CASH/CREDIT,” as you will likely never see the light of day on the other side of aforesaid booth.
Thanks to GPS, and our amazing ability to read road signs together, we were in the heart of downtown Chicago, about 2 hours and 40 minutes later. The shop is located on a city street; 1/2 Chicago Ave. in the middle of lots of store fronts, boarded up, covered with graffiti, and metal locked gates. Across the street was a large operating business of some sort,though I honestly couldn’t figure out what. The shop itself was like a sweet little mint green oasis in the middle of all the brown and grey. As we walked toward it, the delicious smell of baking butter, sugar, and vanilla waifed into our nostrils.
Inside, a retro dresser; also in light green, served as the counter top, next to a little display case filled with: you guessed it- PIE! Cream pies, Savory pies, hand pies; you name it. Chalk boards mounted to the ceiling, listed the menu. Behind the counter, several busy pie makers bustled around. I chose a slice of broccoli cheddar quiche (I hadn’t had breakfast yet- remember!?) and Dwight an apple (of course) hand pie. We sipped our coffee in the window seat, while my quiche warmed in the oven- not the microwave.
A steady stream of pie lovers came and went, taking with them boxes and bags filled with pastries. Three tables total; one lady sat quietly at table 2 sipping her coffee and reading a book, while a young couple waited for their order at table 1. As you may have already guessed, the cabbage roses on the oilcloth tablecloth, the whitewashed wainscoting, and the school house lighting sold me. The pie was, however; delicious!
Our road trip, as far as I am concerned; was a smashing success. Oh, and the burb made it back home, without so much as a hiccup!
