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๐—ฆ๐˜๐˜†๐—น๐—ฒ ๐—ถ๐˜€ ๐—˜๐—ป๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ด๐˜†๐Ÿฅง...

fueled by pie.

It's nice

๐’”๐’๐’Ž๐’†๐’•๐’Š๐’Ž๐’†๐’”

to put your hair up

๐’š๐’๐’–๐’“ ๐’‰๐’†๐’†๐’๐’” ๐’๐’‡๐’‡

and open a window

to let the Fall breeze dance with your jazz compilation

๐’‚๐’๐’… ๐’Ž๐’‚๐’Œ๐’† ๐’‚ ๐’‘๐’Š๐’†.


A simple

cathartic

sweet activity

that grounds us in a way

hypnotizing us to believe ๐’‘๐’Š๐’† ๐’„๐’‚๐’ ๐’‰๐’†๐’‚๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’˜๐’๐’†๐’”.

Shaking our heads at such a silly thought

only to realize

in the midst of chopping, tasting and sprinkling

that weโ€™re ๐’•๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’Œ๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ

and ๐’”๐’๐’๐’—๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ

and sometimes ๐’”๐’Š๐’ˆ๐’‰๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ

๐’”๐’Ž๐’Š๐’๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ, or ๐’„๐’“๐’š๐’Š๐’๐’ˆ.

It actually works.

Pie, the healer, the sweet late night confidant.

Make a pie...


๐—˜๐—ฎ๐˜€๐˜† ๐—ฃ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐˜€๐˜† ๐—ฃ๐—ฒ๐—ฎ๐—ฐ๐—ต ๐—•๐—ผ๐˜‚๐—ฟ๐—ฏ๐—ผ๐—ป ๐—ฃ๐—ถ๐—ฒ

๐Ÿ‘ 6 chopped peaches

๐Ÿ‘ 2 cups brown sugar

๐Ÿ‘1 tablespoon vanilla

๐Ÿ‘2 tablespoons cornstarch

๐Ÿ‘splash of bourbon...๐’๐’๐’˜ ๐’‚๐’…๐’… ๐’”๐’๐’Ž๐’† ๐’•๐’ ๐’•๐’‰๐’† ๐’‘๐’Š๐’† ๐Ÿ˜‰, about 3 tablespoons

๐Ÿ‘mix, pour, add slices of butter, bake at 350 for about 45 minutes (or until crust is slightly brown)

๐Ÿ‘WAIT and let cool, that sh*# is hot.


๐—ฃ๐—ฒ๐—ฟ๐—ณ๐—ฒ๐—ฐ๐˜ ๐—ฎ๐—ฐ๐—ฐ๐—ผ๐—บ๐—ฝ๐—ฎ๐—ป๐—ถ๐—บ๐—ฒ๐—ป๐˜: @silk Almond Pumpkin Spice. โค๏ธ๐Ÿงก๐Ÿ’›



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ยฉ2020 by The Popped Collar.