The Pi Day Pie Baking Contest

If pi is an irrational number, does that make pie bakers irrational too? Jasmine certainly believed so, as she eyed the other bakers swirling around the church auditorium. Irrational maybe, but not ghosts, though somehow her dead Grandma had come back from the grave to enter her famous strawberry rhubarb pie.

The Pi Day Pie Baking contest didn’t have many rules, the entries just had to be round, homemade and with a pastry bottom. Jasmine Dumas walked along the long tables looking at the competition, the entries glowing under the fluorescent lights.

Round mini sweet potato pies sparkled in their cling film wrapping, next to glistening lemon meringue. The key lime pie’s sugary edges shined in its thick black pie tin. So many pies! She saw pumpkin, pecan and berry, alongside apple, key lime and cherry, but she caught her breath at the strawberry rhubarb.

The pie was unmistakable. The lattice top crust had been intricately woven together from delicate ribbons of pastry strands, each one edged with a serrated cutter, to create a gorgeous golden web. Jasmine had tried to copy it, but had never seen another pie crust like it, except in her Grandma's kitchen.

There could be no question, this pie could only have been made by one person, her Grandma, now 5 years dead

Jasmine normally wouldn’t care too much about a pie competition, she specialized in cupcakes. Who cares who makes the better pie, if they all taste good? But this contest was special. It came with a check for $3,141.59, the first 6 digits of pi, and almost exactly the down payment on the food truck she had her eye on.

With that money, along with the baking equipment, bags of flour and sugar she had stacked up like a warehouse in the extra bedroom of her small apartment, she could finally take her obsession, and new career on the road. After a trademark lawsuit, she needed a new name though, maybe Engineered Cupcakes?

Though specializing in cupcakes, Jasmine had a secret weapon for this contest, a sure-fire winner. Jasmine had seen her Grandma’s prize ribbons, and just knew it would win this contest too. She had the best, most fantastic recipe for a strawberry rhubarb pie.

Jasmine and her cousin found the recipe and many more, in a box in her Grandma’s kitchen, all in an unfamiliar cursive, carefully written out by her great-Grandma, or maybe great-great-Grandma! Generations of love, and baking, now in her hands.    

 Except she was looking at the real thing right here in front of her. She turned quickly to see her own entry at the far end of the table, number 75, its own delicate crust secure on the blue glass pie plate.

How could someone else make her Grandma's pie!

A betrayal of the worst sort and she knew who it was, who it had to be, the only other person who had access to her Grandma’s secret recipe, her cousin Jane.

Jasmine scanned the crowd, eyes glowering as she looked for Jane’s distinctive pink-dyed hair. She must be hiding! Jasmine needed to find her cousin, but until then, she had to get this other, imposter pie off the judges table.

 “Oh I dropped my brooch.” Jasmine exclaimed out loud to no one, and then with a dramatic gesture, bent down on one knee to pull back the plastic tablecloth searching for a box, a bag, anything to hide this fake. 

When a loud voice squawking out from a crackling speaker announced the last call for the contest, Jasmine took her chance, grabbed a pink cardboard box and had the pie in it in just seconds.

She would move Jane’s pie somewhere else until she could deal with her. Jasmine turned with a smirk and almost dropped the pink box as she bumped into a tall, black woman.

Jasmine’s smile, and her words, “excuse me…” fell onto the hard linoleum as her eyes caught the burning coals of anger in the woman’s face. 

“What are you doing with my pie?” The woman huffed, holding onto the pink box, her snarl showing a glimpse of sharp white teeth. 

Jasmine had dropped the box, she realized but this woman had caught it.

“I’m just moving it,” Jasmine stammered, “to make more room for the other-”

“Get your hands off my pie!”

“I’m sorry, I thought this was my cousin Jane’s pie.” Her hands flew back. “ My name is Jasmine, and-”

The woman’s face softened. “I know who you are. My name is Myesha.” She elbowed Jasmine out of the way to reposition the pie back on the table. “Good luck in the contest.” Myesha winked.

        While the judges tallied the scores, Jasmine snuck over to examine this, other strawberry rhubarb pie, a few slices still left on the plate.

“Not exactly the same.” Jasmine murmured to herself. Her Grandma’s pies had the fluted crust edges the judges preferred, her pie would have been scored higher on appearance.

The pie smelled good though, and the buttery crust had the perfect thickness and texture, holding firm, while the filling spilled out, a bright red on the white plate.  

Jasmine couldn’t help herself, she cut a bite off with a fork and put it in her mouth. 

Whoosh! The church hall disappeared. The taste of the pie transported her through time and space until suddenly she sat at her Grandma’s kitchen, eating a slice of pie at the table with the pink patterned enamel top. The sweet-tart flavor made her feel the cracks in the cushion on that chair, the warmth of the brightly lit kitchen, and the comfortableness of just sitting with her Grandma. She looked up into her eyes, twinkling behind her glasses. Grandma’s soft, warm hand covered her own.

 “How do you like it?” She asked, in Myesha’s voice.

Jasmine wanted to stay right there, to be with her Grandma again, and that blessed carefree time when life tasted so sweet.

“Well?” Myesha said.

Jasmine blinked and her Grandma faded into Myesha, her eyes concerned and her hand resting protectively on Jasmine’s.

Jasmine snatched her hand back, looking for her Grandma’s kitchen, just on the edge of her vision, but only saw the church banquet room walls.

“That’s it! that’s my Grandma’s pie, it’s almost like I was back in her kitchen, I…”

Jasmine took another bite, hoping to transport herself again, but now the forkful was just a really good bite of pie. An award winning bite of pie.

“How did you make my Grandma’s pie?” Jasmine reached for one more bite. She shouldn’t eat the whole piece of pie, she was going to be tasting others today, and knew this pie would go straight to her hips, straight to them like she placed a slice on each side of her, but she couldn't stop, each bite made her feel good, feel like she was with her Grandma again, in that little kitchen. That kitchen that didn't exist anymore, had not existed for five years, but goddamn the pie was good. Jasmine’s eyes pricked with tears as her mind toured the past, lost in memories until Myesha’s words finally broke through.

“…. she couldn’t cook! Burnt soup that woman did….” Myesha’s arms were crossed on her ample chest.

“What did you say?” Jasmine asked confused, “Who couldn't cook?”

“Your Grandma.” Myesha’s words thudded like stones on the floor between them.

“-My- Grandma, could not cook?” Jasmine licked the crumbs off the fork. “What are you talking about? Whenever I went to her house after school, there were cookies, or brownies, or pies- “ Jasmine pointed with her fork at the crumbs on her plate. A particularly large crumb of crust with a dollop of filling on it caught her eye and she squished it under her fork to pick it up.

“And there was always a casserole, or a roast chicken for Sunday dinners-”

“Did you ever see your Grandma actually cooking?” Myesha asked, her brown eyes wide.

Jasmine’s mouth opened, and while she was thinking she put her fork in her mouth upside-down so she could lick every bit off it.

Images of her Grandma smoking, playing solitaire or filling out the crossword on a folded newspaper came to her mind, but not cooking, never standing anywhere near the stove, nor sink.

“Of course she cooked!” Jasmine shook her head, and finally put her fork down even though she saw one more crumb on the plate.

“How else did all that food get there?”

“My Grandmother worked for your Grandma.” Myesha leaned in. “She cleaned house, and cooked. It’s how it was back then.” 

“But my Grandma entered this pie,” Jasmine pointed at it, “strawberry rhubarb, into the church contest, and won- every year! If your Grandma made the pie, why didn’t she enter it? That doesn’t make sense.” Jasmine folded her arms, her argument flawless.

“Your Grandma might have cooked, and baked. But for this contest, my Grandma wouldn’t have done such a thing.”

Jasmine’s head shook back and forth, trying to get the idea out of her head.

“No way.”

Myesha pursed her lips, tilted her head, folded her own arms.

“Why do you think my Grandma, a black maid, didn’t enter her pie into the -Methodist Church- Baking contest?”

Jasmine’s mouth dropped open, then slapped closed and her arms unfolded.

“But-”Jasmine wanted to deny this idea, to keep her Grandma as the perfect baker, but different memories clicked into place, and she saw the truth.

“Your Grandma gave my Grandma the cash prizes, but kept the ribbons for herself.” Myesha said.

“I’m sorry.” Jasmin said. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s OK. I bake now too, and- ” Myesha said, when the speaker overhead interrupted her.

“-And the winner of this year's Pi Day Baking contest is…”

“I can’t believe neither of us won.” Jasmine said, drinking the thin church coffee. “ Who even likes chocolate cream pie? Damn! I really needed that money.”

“Do you think your cupcake business will work out? I always wanted to start a bakery, but never had the courage to begin. And banker's hours is true, no early mornings." Myesha frowned into the paper coffee cup. “This is horrible.”

Jasmine looked up. “My cupcakes sell out whenever I have a stand at the weekend market. And it’s what I love. I thought baking was in my blood, but maybe it’s my own thing…”

“What if we went into business together?” Myesha said. “I have some money saved up, and a few recipes from my Grandma, you know they're good. Let’s talk about it over some real coffee.” She tossed her cup in a trash can. “What about the name, ‘Grandma’s Pies and Cakes’?” Myesha offered.

“It's time to honor your Grandma.” Jasmine smiled. "I love it."