I've had a few things to say recently, but couldn't get away from what I was doing to write a post. I've been participating in National Novel Writer's Month or NaNoWriMo as it is called. Basically, a novel of 50 thousand words in 30 days, no expectation of quality. It is a writing exercise to get you to write. Every time I feel like writing, I write my novel.
I'm doing okay. You have to write about 1,600 words a day on average to make 50,000 in 30 days. I was ahead for a long time, but I missed a few days about a week ago and haven't quite caught up. I should be at 41,666 and am only at 39,170 (as of this writing.)
This post isn't about that though. My friend Kristina got me thinking about apple pie today and I told her about the time we were driving back to Vegas from a skiing trip to Brian Head. My friend Louis, who was driving, had us stop for dinner in Saint George. All I really remember about the place was that it was near an airport on a cliff that overlooked the city. This would have been between 1992 and '94.
I like apple pie, but as a child I had always had a problem with the chunks of apple. I was a weird picky eater as a kid. The chunks grossed me out. Granted, I had gotten mostly over it as a (somewhat) grown-up but I was still very excited when I saw 'shredded' apple pie on the menu. I knew it was the pie for me.
I spent some time scrolling around the satellite view Saint George on Google Maps. I found the airport with the cliff nearby, but no restaurant. This also wasn't the first time I had tried finding the place, but the maps have gotten much better over the years.
Finally, on a whim, I Googled, "Saint George Utah 'Shredded Apple Pie'" and this blog post on Life as a Lofthouse. I was sad to learn Sullivan's Rococo Steakhouse has closed, but at least the recipe survives.