Trish swears she can teach me to bake pie. "Have you met me?" I always ask. I am a lawyer. I argue for a living. There is no arguing with pie. And yet, here I am, here we are, opening a pie shop. Trish thinks our story is about acceptance. I think our story is about balance. Structure and content, thought and feeling, crust and filling.
And, like all stories, it is about people. In this case, Trish and me. And the people we love, because no story is ever just about the main characters. But let’s start with Trish and me. Actually, let’s start with Trish. She is amazing. She is fearless in the kitchen. Not intimated by ovens and rolling pins or even sauce. She does not blink at the chemistry of cooking. Words like “caramelize” and “induction cooking” do not cause her to flee out the nearest exit. She understands taste, and nutrition and aesthetics on a level that is at once deeply personal and yet still rationally calm.
I, on the other hand, (you saw this coming, didn’t you?) find pie elusive. Don’t get me wrong, I love pie. I love food. I think about it a lot. I talk about it almost as much. But somehow the act of procuring and preparing food defeats me. However, I can wrestle a budget like nobody’s business. Talk budgeting to Trish and she will tell you, her brain fills up with buttercream.
So we have balance between the strengths and weaknesses we each bring. What I love about this project is, I expect as we progress, the balance will shift. I will learn not to fear the kitchen. She will learn that numbers are your friends. Because if there wasn’t the chance for change, what would be the point?
The budget master