Better than the cocktail olive …
Tastier than Baked Alaska …
More satisfying than grilled cheese …
Healthier than hot dogs (which cause butt cancer) …
It happens to be …
… banana creme pie!
I haven’t had a slice in about 30 years, but I came across a mention of it in a book the other day — not even a cookbook — and I almost wet myself as if it were yesterday.
Even the mere thought of a defrosted piece of that shit drives any normal person to culinary distraction.
And imagine a fresh piece?
Banana creme pie.
Say it loud and there’s music playing.
Say it soft and it’s almost like praying.
It’s just so simple yet rich yet deadly yet alluring that it can’t ever evoke anything but sheer admiration on the part of any thrill-seeking citizen.
It’s a true American classic, something to instantly lift spirits, expand waistlines, and elevate our culture with the mere hack of a knife and a serving tool.
Drawing genius Al Hirschfeld loved the stuff so much he ate it for breakfast.
And now that it’s back in my noggin, I’m going to start eating it all day long until I look like one of those swollen kids from Willy Wonka.
Banana creme pie, banana creme pie, banana creme pie …
Just wet myself three more times.
And by the way, if it’s spelled the correct way — i.e., “cream” — stay away! It’s bogus!