You can't call it Derby Pie. . . .There is a lady in Kentucky who will come after you if you call it Derby Pie. She has a lock on the copyright. . . .So we call it Chocolate Chip Walnut Bourbon Pie. But really, we should call it "David's Pie".
My high school friend David works in the same building as the famous Old Ebbitt Grill in downtown Washington, DC. Over the past seven years, "OEG" (as they say) has become his "Cheers". You walk in and all the bartenders say, "David!" then proceed to pour his favorite seasonal beer.
In early November, I met David and his fiancee Molly for dinner at OEG. I found them in the crowded historic bar one day after the election. After complimentary drinks, we headed to our table. As a former server, I would love to have a job a OEG. No table is ever empty for more than 2 minutes. People wait like bees in the lobby. I could pay my rent in tips from one night's work. After an amazing dinner and glorious conversation, we were presented with dessert menus. David, of course, knew every dessert better than his best friend. He reviewed each one, then insisted on trying the Chocolate Chip Walnut Bourbon Pie. It was the best one. We talked about my pie making, my pie baking, and my pie eating. Molly chimed in that last year at Christmas, David bought pies directly from the chef. He took them home for the family. With my eyes all aglow, I asked, "Can you get the recipe?" David blushed and said, "I will try".
I will tell you our version isn't exactly it. But it is very very close.
After dinner that night we took the elevator all the way up to the roof and walked out onto the blustery deck, pressed our faces against the bulletproof glass, and decided the Obamas were still celebrating in Chicago.
In early November, I met David and his fiancee Molly for dinner at OEG. I found them in the crowded historic bar one day after the election. After complimentary drinks, we headed to our table. As a former server, I would love to have a job a OEG. No table is ever empty for more than 2 minutes. People wait like bees in the lobby. I could pay my rent in tips from one night's work. After an amazing dinner and glorious conversation, we were presented with dessert menus. David, of course, knew every dessert better than his best friend. He reviewed each one, then insisted on trying the Chocolate Chip Walnut Bourbon Pie. It was the best one. We talked about my pie making, my pie baking, and my pie eating. Molly chimed in that last year at Christmas, David bought pies directly from the chef. He took them home for the family. With my eyes all aglow, I asked, "Can you get the recipe?" David blushed and said, "I will try".
I will tell you our version isn't exactly it. But it is very very close.
After dinner that night we took the elevator all the way up to the roof and walked out onto the blustery deck, pressed our faces against the bulletproof glass, and decided the Obamas were still celebrating in Chicago.
magnificient may be an understatement. This is quite possibly my favorite thing yet.
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