Pie Bag

Paris truly is the City Of Love. I just came home after a rare solo sojourn to celebrate the end of my current radio show and I fell head over heels while I was frolicking around Gay Paree. My husband may or may not be glad to read this and I assure you, I do still love him. But… I have a new love. No not, a 30 year old Parisian named Jean Marc. My new love is a pie bag. Yes. A genius invention. A flat bottom round cavass bag you zip up to rest your tasty pie within its safe surrounds. A very fancy pie swag if you will. A deceptively fashionable accessory. The plain fabric bag has two handles and you can trot around town feeling very smug your tart is tucked away right next to your body in what looks like a chic beige linen handbag. But only you would know you are carrying a pie around. I would get a cherry pie every Monday. An apricot on Tuesday. An old school family beef pie on Wednesday. A chicken curry pie on Thursday and to celebrate the start of the weekend, I would buy an apple pie every Friday. Oh la la! The French have it figured out.

Alas I did not buy my fashionable pie bag as it was $150. As much as I wanted that tart tote I could not justify the outrageous price tag. I did see Monet’s Water lillies painting at the Musee de l’Orangerie , and of course I checked in to see Mona Lisa was still smirking away at The Louvre. I also saw Luxembourg Gardens in full bloom and it took my breath away.

I ate beef bourguignon and drank hot chocolate as thick as custard at Angelinas (where Coco Chanel used to have a set table). I swooned over The Eiffel Tower and climbed the 300 steep steps to the Sacre-Couer but make no mistake that damn pie bag will haunt me to the end of the days. You see The City Of Love really is for everyone – it just depends what love you are searching for.