"If you meet me in Grand Central, we can get some sour cream apple walnut pie," said TL, and those were the only words I needed to hear to get me on the train. That evening we were headed to Kooza, the Cirque du Soleil performance taking place on Randall's Island, and while I had anticipated some kind of real meal beforehand, I was totally good with the idea of eating that magical pie for dinner instead. Ever since having those slices at the crawfish boil, we'd both been wanting more.
It was so much fun to sit down in the dining concourse with a small version of the pie and to just dig in. Even though the one we got was only five inches, there was something about eating directly from a whole pie with our forks that felt so much naughtier than cutting into a civilized slice from a large pie.
Turned out we needed a bit more than pie to tide us over though, so before boarding the M35 bus in Harlem we stopped in at Golden Krust for Jamaican patties. I got the chicken version, which was fresher and flakier than some Golden Krust patties I remember eating in the past.
Bellies sated with both sweet and savory, we were ready for a night of wacky French circus-ing. Kooooozaaa!