by Ken Sanes
Hello. Iím a slice of apple pie
a la mode, and Iím your friend.
I'm crusty and plump,
with choice apple slices
that feel tender to your teeth,
and celebrity nutritionists say
Iím healthy when consumed in moderation.
Yes, I'm a truly delectable dessert
or snack you can have any time
as part of a well rounded diet.
But that broccoli on your plate
is another matter entirely --
the one who is clumsily gesturing to you
with those leaves for arms
and shaking his big broccoli head, "No!"
That broccoli doesnít know what he's talking about!
His statements arenít even backed up
by industry-financed scientific studies!
Besides, if he had his way,
weíd live in a totalitarian all-fiber society
overloaded with bulk,
going in lockstep at 7:30 a.m.
But youíll have to forgive my digression
since IĎm really not here
to tell you about the broccoli.
What I do want to tell you
apple pie is delicious hot
with vanilla ice cream.
And after youíre done,
you can guzzle down a glass of milk
and feel the cold liquid
cascading down your throat.
Now that's refreshment!
But apple pie a la mode
isnít only a delightful dessert
thatís a great pick-me-up on a blah! day.
Incredible as it may sound,
it is also the answer to the problem of existence.
And, believe me, once people
have the answer -- in sufficient quantities --
they no longer waste their time
coveting their neighbor's wealth
or invading the resource-rich provinces
of neighboring countries,
but are content to sit there,
observing the human comedy as it passes,
from their place on the couch.
One might even say they have
filled the aching pie hole
at the center of existence
and entered a state of nutritional nirvana,
a satori of sugar-saturated satiation
that is the closest thing to bliss we can know
in this bittersweet world.
So you see,
Iím not merely
a subtle creation of culture
with a masterful blend of ingredients,
like the Pantheon or the Mona Lisa
(whose smile suggests she just had a nice dessert).
I am also the soul of life
and the heart of love,
unrivaled by the paradise of pound cake
or the delights of midnight donuts
with their soft flesh and creamy filling,
although that can be good too
with either milk or coffee.
But that broccoli -- well --
that broccoli is just a glorified Ö cabbage.
It is a prison house of the palate,
a culinary calamity that offers
an explosion of water
when you bite into it. Water!
And eating the bottom half of the stalk
is like eating your shoes.
Thatís progress and civilization?
I donít think so. It is death-in-life,
I tell you, death-in-life,
this low carb utopia -- this lowtopia --
as if you can squeeze out happiness
one carbohydrate at a time,
gnawing on dog biscuits
and eating the garden for dinner,
while you long to be filled --
and made complete.
Now Iím not one to speak poorly
of other food groups,
so let me just conclude by saying
that you donít need to suffer
the fire and brimstone puritanism
of that Savonarola of Sulforaphane
since you can get all the vitamin C you need
from apple pie -- if you eat enough of it.
Of course, there are also some side effects,
but you donít need to worry about that now.
So why not? Go ahead and indulge yourself.
You only live once.
Oh waitress, waitress.Öwould you bring this man
another bowl of ice cream and the rest of that apple pie?
He just wants one more slice.
You are welcome to send me an email at
letters at kensanes.com
Copyright © 2010-2013 Ken Sanes