It's finally Lemon Meringue Pie and the leaves are starting to turn

[brightly_lit]

On Tumblr right now, a blog I follow is doing a full week of MCR metas. This has enriched my life an astonishing degree. Meta is where I live.

You know how they used to have cool names for the months based on moons, like the Harvest Moon, and the Hunters Moon? Well, I have my own naming system for the months: the Pies. August is Peach Pie, when delicious Colorado peaches are so briefly in season. You can only eat so many peaches, so the rest get turned into pies (or frozen peaches, which later get turned into pies). August comes around? PEACH PIE. November is, of course, Pumpkin Pie. January is Pear Pie. AND SO FORTH.

Dean would be proud.

Comments

[kalliel]

Ha! Dean would so love that. XD And he'd spent a decent amount of time explaining to Sam the subtle difference between simply having a pie of the month (like Biggerson's) and having a MONTH SUPERSEDED BY PIE.

[brightly-lit.livejournal.com]

Ah, Dean. Pleasure is such a simple equation for him. Pie=happy! (And, sharks too. ;-) )

[milly-gal.livejournal.com]

You are a genius, and a legend and Dean would wanna lick you up and down ;)

I am a Pear Moon baby then ;) January birthday ;)

[brightly-lit.livejournal.com]

lol I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. Genius=yeah! Legend=hell yeah! Dean licking me up and down=OHHH YEAH!

Pear Pie girl! One of my favorites; I have a stellar recipe. <3

[milly-gal.livejournal.com]

*Grins* Send me the recipe? Steve adores pear :D ;)

[brightly-lit.livejournal.com]

Sure, baby, here ya go! If it's a hit, I WANT CREDIT. ;-D

5-6 c. pears, peeled, cored, and sliced
1/2 c. sugar
1 t. grated lemon peel
3 T. lemon juice

Arrange all that in a classic unbaked pie crust, and top it with:

1/2 c. flour
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 t. ground ginger
1/2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. mace
1/3 c. butter

Bake at 400 for 45 minutes or until pears are tender. Enjoy!

[milly-gal.livejournal.com]

*GRABBYHANDS* ♥

You will get credit :D I plan on making this this weekend :D

[toratio.livejournal.com]

And you're not making this a fic right now why??

[brightly-lit.livejournal.com]

It ... did not occur to me that this was fic material. But since it occurred to YOU ....

[toratio.livejournal.com]

But but but, Dean making every month pie month, only eating specific pies on specific months, seeking out just the right pie, going crazy when Sam gets the wrong pie (which, unless he buys something other than pie entirely, he will), but eating it anyway so it doesn't go to waste, and if you have your month-pie list I could totally write this fic but I'm don't know anything about pies so I need a pie consultant...

[brightly-lit.livejournal.com]

This is really good! You saw into the fic-heart of the concept. And YES, I DO have my full pie-month list. Here ya go:

Jan: pear
Feb: apple
Mar: caramel
Apr: chocolate cream
May: strawberry-rhubarb
Jun: cherry
Jul: blueberry-raspberry
Aug: peach
Sep: lemon meringue
Oct: pot pie
Nov: pumpkin
Dec: pecan

*steeples fingers, awaits fic*

So, uh, pie fic!

[toratio.livejournal.com]

It’s finally Lemon Meringue Pie, and the leaves are starting to turn.

Sam always gives him a funny look when he says things like that. He looks at Dean like he’s crazy, and well, after forty years of Hell, give or take, and that year in Purgatory, and some time travel, alternate time lines, and the times he’s tried to exist without his brother (because he never really ‘lives’ without his brother), he’s probably not what one would call ‘sane’.

But their lives aren’t conventional – they don’t judge things by normal dates. They don’t really mark their birthdays, and the main date they know is the date of their mom’s death, and later Jess’ as well, and they mark that with alcohol and regret. They don’t do the big holidays, not really, and the seasons go on without them as they do what they’ve always done – hunt, fight, make up, fight some more, and try to keep the world from ending. That’s really just any given Wednesday for them.

Few things are consistent in Dean’s world, but pies are something he can depend on. The seasons change, and the pie flavours cycle with them, like the phases of the moon, except pies don’t awaken werewolves and he doesn’t have to put the chains on his tires when the flavours change.

“Lemon meringue month, Sammy!” Dean has fresh lemons and a brand-new pie dish – because apparently the Men of Letters weren’t much into pastry – and he grins at his brother, the grumpy Sasquatch eyeing him with suspicion as he pours himself a morning coffee.

“It’s September already?”

Dean can’t help his sunny grin. This is the first time he’s been able to make his own pie to ring in the new month. It’s a ritual he’s developed over the years, one he sticks to when he can. He can’t always – sometimes it’s a little late, sometimes he just can’t get the right pie.

Sometimes he’s still stupid enough to send Sam out for it. He remembers one April, sending Sammy out in search of chocolate cream pie, only for the little bitch to come back with Boston cream pie, looking ridiculously proud of himself.

They’d spent several hours arguing over why, no Sam, Boston cream pie is a cake, not a pie, I don’t care what its name is, it’s not about the name, it’s about the pastry Sammy, haven’t I taught you anything?

Dean is so sure his brother does this deliberately, because, while the kid doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth any more, he somehow always manages to get the strawberry rhubarb pie when his birthday rocks around.

“We should go to New England,” Sam says as he boots up his laptop, “I hear it’s beautiful this time of year.”

Dean hums and nods, thinking of the tree-lined streets with falling leaves, the quaint little houses, the shadowy creatures that prowl around them, waiting to take down unsuspecting suburbanites.

“We could go to Salem,” Sam says, “maybe take a break.”

“Sure,” Dean says sarcastically, crouching in front of the oven, “I mean, no witches any more, right? They all got wiped out.”

And part 2 of pie fic

[toratio.livejournal.com]

He doesn’t have to look up to see Sam roll his eyes. A few taps and then he hears Sam’s voice lighten, can almost see the smile playing around his lips.

“They have a pirate museum.”

And yeah, maybe Dean once wanted to be a pirate. And maybe he was once a little confused about what it meant to score ‘booty’.

“Shame it’s not a pie-rate museum, huh Sammy?” Dean stands and waggles his eyebrows, pleased at the annoyed huff his brother lets out.
“You’re an idiot, Dean.”

Cleaning up the bench top, Dean muses over taking a trip to Salem, to watch Sammy geek out over the place’s history (and maybe for him to geek out over pirates, so sue me), to wander through those tree-lined streets and maybe buy Cas a cheesy souvenir. “I suppose we can spare a couple of days.”

The world isn’t ending this week, so they might as well take the time while they have it.

They look over tourist traps and bicker over whether they might find a case on the way (“We could head down to Derry, Sammy, go say hi to Pennywise.” “Derry’s not a real place and fuck you Dean.”), as the scent of lemon meringue pie fills the kitchen, and even Sam is salivating, and Dean thinks if he can make pie for himself and his baby brother, and they can drive half way across the country to see a pirate museum on a whim, maybe this isn’t such a bad way to live after all.