House of Pies Is the Perfect Place to Hit Up at 2 a.m. When You Need a Fine Slice of Goodness
I recently made a life-altering discovery. It's awesome. It's dangerous. It's dangerously awesome.
Photo by Kaitlin Steinberg The House of Pies' Bayou Goo, left, is a crowd favorite, while the pecan, right, is made with Texas nuts.
In a mere seven minutes, I can walk from my front door to the front door of House of Pies. In 20 minutes, tops, I can be snuggled up in bed in possession of far more pie than any one person should ingest in a single sitting.
It's amazing. It's horrible. I can't stop.
During the first few months I lived in the neighborhood, I avoided House of Pies. It looked, to me, like a glorified IHOP, a chain I detest. I figured that, as IHOP had done, it would take one of my favorite foods and turn it into mushy, flavorless cardboard with an $8 price tag. And I have no need for that.
But one Saturday evening, after a glass of wine and a Law & Order marathon with my cat, I found myself hungry at 2 a.m. So after debating the pros and cons of Taco Cabana versus House of Pies, I trekked across a couple of parking lots to the well-lit beacon and took a seat at the bar next to a young girl with green hair and her heavily tattooed mother. And I then ordered a lot of pie.
Admittedly, my expectations for the items on offer at House of Pies were low. I tend to prefer pies made by an elderly relative's loving hands to pie produced en masse for a crowd of people who are mostly under the influence of...something. I was not prepared to fall head over heels in love with House of Pies.
Photo by Kaitlin Steinberg House of Pies has an extensive menu, and the crust is wonderful.
The first pie I tried came at the recommendation of my waitress: Bayou Goo. While the name might not sound terribly appealing (I get visions of sticky green swamp moss), the Bayou Goo is a masterful combination of crumbly pecan crust, a thin layer of slightly sweetened cream cheese, a layer of vanilla and chocolate swirled custard with bits of chopped pecan scattered throughout, a generous dollop of whipped cream and, finally, another sprinkling of pecans.
I was certain, certain, that the pie would be overly sweet and possess a crust that was neither flaky enough to break with my fork nor hardy enough to contain the multitude of gooey or juicy toppings within. I was wrong on both counts. Even the Bayou Goo, a custard-filled cream pie, had just the right amount of sweetness, and the crust stood up well under the heft of all those local Texas pecans. One pie in, and I was hooked.
I ordered two more slices that night -- cherry and pecan -- and though they weren't quite as good as the Bayou Goo, they continued to exceed my expectations. After I walked (or, rather, waddled) back to my apartment, I sat down with my computer and did some research.