Cow Hampshire

Union Club, Park Street, Boston MA. Photograph by James Wallace Black, 17 June 1875; Boston Public Library, Print Department; Flickr

NEW ENGLAND PIE
Pie is the masterpiece of New England home cookery. In Maine they still make those deep apple pies–clove flavored, generous, ample pies that one can make a flavorous meal of. But pie reaches its apotheosis at the Union club in this city. There an exquisite compound of pastry and the noblest of fruits is brought to tempt the sated appetites of the golden bucks and epicurean judges. The Union club apple pie is the pie idealized, the justifications of Mme. Eve’s plucking of the immortal fruit. If she tempted Adam with this prince of pies, no wonder he was willing to give up Eden for life on an Asiatic ranche. All Boston eateth of the pie. The broker and banker climb the cafe stool and bolt their pie and coffee. The shop girl carries in her lunch box from her frowsy boarding house a triangle of pie. The newsboy hath his pie in his mind as he trudges through the storm. Our supreme court judges eat pie with a gusto. I sat beside a supreme judge a few weeks ago at the Massasoit House in Springfield. If my memory does not fail, the learned lawyer and ex-attorney general of the United States ate both mince and peach pie. The Indian in our Massachusetts coat of arms holds a pie knife in his hands and our State motto, properly translated reads: “We will have a piece of pie if we have to fight for it.” [Chicago Tribune, as published in New Hampshire Sentinel (Keene NH), March 11, 1885, Vol LXXXVII Issue 10 Page 4
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