So it’s illegal in Atlanta to sell food from carts. Or not illegal, but really hard to obtain permits. Or something like that… otherwise why would there be an Atlanta street food movement? At least we have the King of Pops.
Apparently street food in San Francisco is all the rage. Like, people ride around with pies for sale in their bicycle baskets. God, I would love to run into a bicyclists selling fabulous homemade pies. Assuming the pies were kept far, far away from his or her sweaty biker shorts. But some puckish lady in a gingham skirt selling homemade strawberry-rhubarb pie? Bring it on.
I’ve had pie on the mind ever since a friend told me about throwing a housewarming party for her new apartment in NY and serving seven different types of pie. I met this woman at the Southern Foodways Alliance symposium in Oxford, MS, so she’s certifiably food obsessed–all of us who travel down there each October to celebrate and gorge on southern food are–but still, the bounty of her offering astounded me. Seven different kinds of pies. What fun. What work. What daydreams she has inspired of lemon chess, lemon meringue, chocolate cream, bourbon pecan, Mom’s strawberry, key lime, and crack pie. That or sour cherry. Oh please, please, someone invite me to a housewarming with 7 kinds of pie!!