Pie Quotes

“We must have a pie. Stress cannot exist in the presence of a pie.”
― David Mamet, Boston Marriage

“This shit is easy peasy, pumpkin peasy, pumpkin pie, muthafucka!”
― Gerard Way

“Cut my pie into four pieces, I don’t think I could eat eight.”
― Yogi Berra

“Pies mean Thanksgiving and Christmas and picnics.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“The vampire leaned forward, tapping a scimitar claw. "Is that a lion with horns and a pitchfork?"
"Yep."
"Is he carrying a moon on his pitchfork?"
"No, it's a pie.”
― Ilona Andrews, Magic Bleeds

“A cherry pie is . . . ephemeral. From the moment it emerges from the oven it begins a steep decline: from too hot to edible to cold to stale to mouldy, and finally to a post-pie state where only history can tell you that it was once considered food. The pie is a parable of human life.”
― Nick Harkaway, The Gone-Away World

“Kid 1: *examining my gorgeous strawberry and blueberry pies*: Wow, Mom, your pies don’t look awful this time.
Me (Ilona): ...

~A little later~

Kid 2: *wandering into the kitchen*
Kid 1: Hey, you’ve got to see these pies. *opening the stove*
Kid 2: Wow. They are not ugly this time.
Kid 1: I know, right?”
― Ilona Andrews

“America has developed a pie tradition unequivocally and unapologetically at the sweet end of the scale, and at no time is this better demonstrated than at Thanksgiving.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“It could be argued that there is an element of entertainment in every pie, as every pie is inherently a surprise by virtue of its crust.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“We have been careless with our pie repertoire. The demise of apple-pear pie with figs and saffron and orengeado pies are tragic losses.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“The First Law of Pies: 'No Pastry, No Pie.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“The Second Law of Pies: they must be baked, not fried (or boiled, or steamed).”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“The homemade pie has been under siege for a century, and surely its survival is endangered.”
― Janet Clarkson, Pie: A Global History

“You may receive a pie, eat it and forget. You may receive champagne, drink it and forget. But when you receive a book, you can open it again and again.”
― Israelmore Ayivor, 101 Keys To Everyday Passion

“Hot Pie yelled hot pie. He must have yelled it a hundred times.”
― George R.R. Martin

“David Chang, who had become the darling of the New York restaurant world, thanks to his Momofuku noodle and ssäm bars in the East Village, opened his third outpost, Momofuku Milk Bar, just around the corner from my apartment. While everyone in the city was clamoring for the restaurants' bowls of brisket ramen and platters of pig butt, his pastry chef, Christina Tosi, was cooking up "crack pie," an insane and outrageous addictive concoction made largely of white sugar, brown sugar, and powdered sugar, with egg yolks, heavy cream, and lots of butter, all baked in an oat cookie crust. People were going nuts for the stuff, and it was time for me to give this crack pie a shot. But as soon as I walked into the industrial-style bakery, I knew crack could have nothing on the cookies.
Blueberry and cream. Double chocolate. Peanut butter. Corn. (Yes, a corn cookie, and it was delicious). There was a giant compost cookie, chock-full of pretzels, chips, coffee grounds, butterscotch, oats, and chocolate chips. But the real knockout was the cornflake, marshmallow, and chocolate chip cookie. It was sticky, chewy, and crunchy at once, sweet and chocolaty, the ever-important bottom side rimmed in caramelized beauty. I love rice crisps in my chocolate, but who would have thought that cornflakes in my cookies could also cause such rapture?”
― Amy Thomas, Paris, My Sweet: A Year in the City of Light

“I require pie before I desecrate a mass grave.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Bone Maker

“Pie is good any time of the day.”
― Kristin Hannah, Magic Hour

“I don’t know. Let me think. Do I want pie? Am I even hungry? Oh, this is a hard decision. Maybe I should call the DUH, YES, I LOVE PIE ASSOCIATION.”
― Cindy Callaghan, Lost in London

“The nuns were not the only ones to take an interest in French-Canadian cooking that fall. It was a November evening, a little before the first snow. With both her parents out, Madeleine opened the can of maple syrup she had stolen from the Damours grocery store. The maple syrup pie recipe was quite straightforward. Just five ingredients. But Madeleine prepared it with all the care and attention to detail that the Japanese take in making sushi. She worked in religious silence, without making a mess, without spilling flour. The sweet aroma of maple syrup soon floated over the kitchen, then the living room, as the syrup boiled with the heavy cream. A smell delectable enough to wake the dead, to make them wish they were still alive. Madeleine washed the utensils as she went, leaving no trace behind. Once the pie was in the oven, its aroma gained in strength and substance.”
― Éric Dupont, The American Fiancée

“A pound of butter and Lord knows how much sugar later, my head was clear, my spirit was calm, and I had a delicious calamansi-ginger pie cooling on the counter. I twisted shut the lid of the jar I'd filled with the excess calamansi-ginger curd and sighed in satisfaction. Now this was bliss.
The sweetness of the coconut shortbread crust scented the air, interspersed with the zest of citrus and zing of ginger. If I could bottle this scent, I'd wear it forever.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Arsenic and Adobo

“I've never known anyone with the capacity for sugar that Adeena has. She'd demolished her waffles, which she'd drowned in syrup, and then ordered a slice of triple chocolate tuxedo pie, another sugar bomb. If I ate the way she'd did, I'd have lost a foot to diabetes by now.
Martha slid our desserts in front of us, and Adeena and I hummed in appreciation after taking our first bites. The lemon icebox cake was cold and creamy, with a background sweetness and a whole lot of tang. As I often did when sampling delicious desserts, I tried to deconstruct what was in it.
Graham crackers, cream cheese, whipped cream, and a ton of lemon curd seemed to be the basis of the recipe. Similar to the ginger calamansi pie I'd made, but simpler and no-bake, if I decided to buy the graham crackers instead of making my own. Definitely worth experimenting with, as I had a jar of calamansi curd tucked away in the fridge just begging to be used. I made a note on my phone later, maybe as a summer offering.
As per usual when eating out, Adeena and I swapped plates so we could taste each other's desserts.
"What do you think, girls?"
I grinned at Martha. "Delicious. I love how the lemon cake is sweet and tangy, but you don't go too far in either direction."
Adeena added, "It's the perfect counterpoint to my chocolate pie, which is divine, by the way. Rich, creamy, and so satisfying.”
― Mia P. Manansala, Arsenic and Adobo

“When you do not know how to make money in a particular space, hand it out to experts, you will still ‘Own Your Piece Of The Pie”
― Sandeep Sahajpal, The Twelfth Preamble: To all the authors to be!

“And for a Quay thief, there was only one place to go to learn anything about anything: Ad and Tad’s pie shop.”
― Carrie Ryan, The Map to Everywhere

“no one evaded the pie shop pirates for long.”
― Carrie Ryan, The Map to Everywhere

“There is no problem that can't be solved with the help of a good carrot pie, my friend.”
― Anna Horbatenko, Bedtime Stories: Little Bunny and The Big Race

“And what about how she’ll be… divided?” Forrest asks gruffly. I wince at the poor word choice.

“Divided?” she asks, her tone outraged. “I’m not a pie!”
― Lacey Carter Andersen, Shadow of the Crown

“I call this the Black 'n' Blue," she explained. "It's a freshly made pie with blackberries and blueberries and a buttery double crust. I'd say one piece will do the trick, but if you find yourself in a creative lull, I'd add a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top." Anna picked up a dessert neatly wrapped in plastic and tied with a bow. "Laughter and delight are guaranteed with this Mexican chocolate cinnamon roll.”
― Jennifer Moorman, The Baker's Man

“I didn't know rhubarb was involved," Macon exclaims as if the addition of it makes all the difference.
"Cuts the sweetness of the strawberry with a little tart," JoJo explains.
Completely straight faced, Macon nods. "I like a little tart with my sweets."
I struggle not to roll my eyes.
"Personally," Mama goes on, "I can't stand to eat strawberry rhubarb pie anymore. Reminds me of death," she confides in a lowered voice.
With a groan, I rest my head in my hands.
"I much prefer a nice buttermilk pie or coconut cream," she tells Macon.
"Chocolate chiffon is my favorite," JoJo puts in.
Macon keeps his eyes firmly off me as his mouth twitches. "I'm partial to warm peach."
"Oh, for the love of pie," I exclaim.”
― Kristen Callihan, Dear Enemy

“She took the box; it was too heavy to be muffins or croissants, and the cardboard bottom was so warm, she felt the heat on her thighs through her sheets. She shot a puzzled glance at Gabe, who remained impishly silent, and pulled the cotton string. She opened it to reveal a fresh-baked whole pie, releasing a mouthwatering aroma of toasty, buttery pastry and a caramelized berry sweetness that was bubbling through the golden-brown crust in dark veins of sticky sugar.
Her stomach growled in response. "Do you have a knife? I'll cut you a slice."
Gabe produced two forks and handed her one. "Who needs slices anyway? This is just for us."
He stripped naked and jumped into bed, bouncing her as she giggled and kept the pie upright. They cozied up next to each other, sitting up against the headboard, and dug in, Gabe first. It felt sacrilegious to defile a pie this way. But it simply smelled too good to resist, and she too poked her fork in the center, shamelessly breaking the sparkly sugared crust and digging into the soft, steaming blueberry filling. Her fork was no match for this glorious pie, and each juicy bite sent a few blueberries tumbling like black pearls, dotting the box and bedsheets in royal purple. The sweet ink of a delicious memory that would excite Iris for years to come.”
― Francesca Serritella, Full Bloom