4th of July & Mom's Pie

It could be argued that nothing is more American than Apple Pie. I could interject and say there are lots more things that are at least JUST AS AMERICAN as Apple Pie, but in all honesty, I love me some pie.

There was, for a brief period of time where I vehemently hated cake, thank God that has passed, but I've always loved pie. Always. Apple Crumb is my favorite to be exact, but my mom makes a MEAN boysenberry.

As a child I used to go to summer camp up in the Cuyamaca Mountains north of San Diego. On the way there we would travel through the little town on Ramona and grab some burgers, the last huzzah of "real food" before the week long buffet of inedible sludge. But nothing was sweeter than the ride home when we would drive through Julian and stop for a slice of Mom's Apple Pie.

That ritual slice of pie became the staple on which we recounted our stories of the week, the hikes, the summer loves, the poison oak, it all poured out over that perfect slice of heaven.

Even now I will make the hour long trek up to Julian just for a warmed slice of Apple Crumb, zealous with anticipation for that first perfect bite.

This particular day I visited I got a slice of Apple Crumb and Bumbleberry Crumb, a mixture of Blueberries, Blackberries and Boysenberries.


The Bumbleberry was a nice sweet pie, with a perfectly tart finish, unlike the indubitably sweet apple. Both pure heaven for pie lovers.