Before getting too far away from my big brother‘s birthday, I wanted to share with you a little story about pie.
After a fantastic kayak trip:
But, dear reader, you can’t quite empathize until you understand the goodness of Spearman’s pie.
Here is a little something I wrote for school last year:
Some treasures are found in the most unlikely places.
Spearman’s Restaurant is such a one. Tucked into the tiny town of Millwood, Spearman’s unassuming atmosphere almost contrasts with the greatness of its treasure: pies.
Millwood lies in the rural, rolling hills west of Mount Vernon. While driving the ups and downs of Coshocton Road, you may just miss Spearman’s if you blink.
The main drag slides through town like a well-worn river. Not far away is Honey Run Falls, the main attraction in Millwood. Pulling in to Spearman’s parking lot, after turning around once or twice, you may find yourself beside a tractor – nothing unusual in this part of Ohio.
Once you get out of your car, you make your way into Spearman’s itself. You walk past the two old gas pumps half decorating the front pavement. Don’t open the building’s first door, sure it leads to the same place and maybe you saw someone come out of it, but people just know to only walk in the second door.
Once inside you may notice the varied array of tables to the right. Along the wall skinny tables and square tables sit with their respective chairs. A long family table in the middle of the floor almost crowds the door matt.
Someone behind the counter in front of you will holler a welcome and tell you to have a seat wherever you’d like. To the left a barrier wall with banisters like jail bars separates the two halves of the restaurant. You settle into a booth along the back wall in the left side and tell the waiter you would like to try their pie.
After long deliberation over today’s options on the dry erase board, you decide on the peanut butter cream pie.
The waitress jots down the order smiling, and shortly afterwards she delivers the pie and a glass of water. A glob of snowy whipped cream crowns the top of the extra wide slice of pie. You carve your fork into the half stiff, half soft peanut butter and dip the tip into the whipped cream. The smooth, pale brown pie melts against the roof of your mouth as you take the first bite.
Closing your eyes accentuates the sensation. Once you open them again your waitress beams at you and asks you how it is. It is the finest pie you’ve ever had.
At the end of your time at Spearman’s, you look out at the old gas pumps and the tractor in the parking lot. This Millwood is a nice little place. Spearman’s is a quaint joint, and they make some treasure of a pie.