baking – Page 2

Tuesdate:

April 26, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him: So here he is.

Me: So here HE is. Look at you, small drink of water.

Him: STOP IT.

Me: I mean it. You’re gorgeous. Better than your pics online.

Him: Isn’t Grindr weird?

Me: I kind of think it’s amazing. It’s like Chat Roulette, but in person. You never know what you’re going to get.

Him: Believe me. I know.

Me: That sounded ominous.

Him: I’ve met some real creeps.

Me: I’ve met jerks and nice people. No real creeps.

Him: Maybe that’s because you’re the creep?

Me: Nice. I tell you you’re pretty, twice, and you imply that I’m a creep. You should write a book on dating.

Him: Uh oh. Am I one of your online Jerks?

Me: Are you?

(pause)

Him: No.

Me: Well there it is.

(pause)

Him: Anyway, who keeps score?

Me: Of what?

Him: Of that sort of stupid stuff? Compliments and whatnot.

Me: Obviously I do. I just demonstrated that I do.

(pause)

Me: Relax. I might be joking, you know… I might just still think you’re an attractive little wonder, at 5’6”.

Him: Stop saying little. I don’t like to feel little.

(i’m feeling brave, and so i take a step toward him. i put my face next to his. i can feel the breath come out of my nose against his cheek. he smells spicy. like cinnamon or ginger, but not quite those things. )

Me: What about now? Do you feel little now?

Him: Yes.

(i put my hands on his ribcage and squeeze gently. the hair stands up on my arms. i have goosebumps)

Me: But don’t you kind of feel really powerful?

Him: Yes.

Me: You’re pretty.

Him: Ugh.

(he moves away)

Me: Haha… okay. So, no saying you’re little, and I’m guessing – no ‘pretty’ either?

Him: Why not handsome? Why can’t I be handsome?

Me: You can. You are. You’re very handsome. You’re also pretty.

Him: Ugh.

Me: Well the good news is: I like pretty. So dry your eyes on that.

Him: You’re cute.

Me: Compliment number one.

Him: What?

Me: That’s the first compliment you ever gave me, in person.

Him: Oh great. How far behind am I?

Me: Only a few, but I’d rather stay ahead in the compliment game, if you don’t mind?

Him: Why?

Me: I’d rather you owed me.

Him: What??

Me: It’s a thing that my grandfather says. I used to borrow money from him, sometimes, at the store to get comic books. I would ask to borrow five dollars. He would give it to me. When I got my allowance I’d try to pay it back, and he would say ‘No, I’d rather you owed me.’ Then he would smirk, as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Him: That’s cute.

Me: It’s infuriating. He’d smirk at me, here and there, for the next few weeks, and I knew he was thinking ‘You owe me five bucks and it really bothers you, and I love that.’ He was right, too. It was exactly what I was thinking.

Him: That’s cute. He sounds pretty awesome.

Me: He’s a good man. For sure.

Him: Can I ask you a question?

Me: No.

Him: What?

Me: Sorry. That was supposed to be funny. I said no, when the only appropriate answer was yes. I thought it would be funny.

Him: Was it?

Me: Yes, but you’ll just have to trust me. You didn’t see your face when I said it. It was funny.

Him: I guess I’ll have to believe you.

Me: Good. Because I’m lying.

Him: What??

Me: Sorry. That was another joke. That one wasn’t funny. I get nervous and act like an idiot.

Him: You make it charming, somehow.

Me: You didn’t know me in college.

Him: Were you different?

Me: I was nearly insufferable.

Him: You’re pretty too.

Me: Shucks. Okay. That’s two for you. Fuck.

(long pause)

Him: You’re not some sort of creepy Rice Queen, are you?

Me: Uh… I mean.. I thought that was obvious? You’ve been to my website, right?

Him: Yeah. There’s lots of Asians.

Me: But not ALL Asians, right? I like a lot of things. A lot of people. I like kind people. Asians are kind, frequently, if you’re kind to them.

Him: I guess that’s not so creepy. I guess that’s okay for Asians.

Me: Yeah. Well I forgot to say: I feed on their tears. Keeps me young. I’m like a succubus, or a psychic vampire of some sort. I’m 183 years old. I make them cry and then drink their salty tears. But it only works with Asians.

Him: Really?

Me: Yes. And did you also know that Black people can levitate? They’re hiding it from you.

(long pause. he starts laughing a lot)

Him: You’re joking!

Me: Yes. And you’re laughing. That means…..

Him: What does that mean?

Me: It means, you get a kiss, if you want one, later.

Him: I’ll decide later if I do.

Me: Oh. I. Like. That.

Him: Really?

Me: No. It’s infuriating. I’d rather you owed me one.

(we kept talking and walking. later, he gave me a quick kiss. it was a good kiss.)

He’s not a jerk…

But you are. Come on. You know you are.

SaturDATE: I’ve Already Figured You Out

April 2, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sometimes people ask me on dates. They tend to go horribly. These are their stories.

(Law and Order Sound Effect)

Him: Come home with me.

Me: No. Do you think this sweater is too heavy for the springtime?

Him: Come on. Come home with me.

Me: No. It’s late and you’re drunk and I’m not and I’m tired.

Him: Come home with me. We’ve been flirting with each other for a long time now. Come on.

Me: No. 9 months is a long time?

Him: Come on. (hails a cab) Get in the cab.

Me: No. I’m going home.

Him: Yes.

Me: Okay fine.

(Montage: Snuggly cab ride. Surprised cab driver. Deli visit for food and beer. Fumbling with keys.)

Him: Do you want a beer? I’m having a beer.

Me: Yes. I’m going to start drinking at 3 am. Good idea.

Him: Great, I’ll open you one.

Me: No, wait. I changed my mind.

Him: Fickle.

Me: More like, sarcastic.

Him: I like that.

Me: I like you.

Him: I know.

Me: Don’t worry. I don’t get weird. I let things develop naturally. We’ll have two kids, one Korean girl named Ellen, and one African boy, named Sh’Africa.

Him: Sounds like you’re telling Africa to be quiet.

Me: I’m not. I like the names Sean and Africa. Sh’Africa. If anything, I think Africa should be louder.

Him: Why?

Me: All that suffering? Isn’t there a lot of suffering and economic inequality?

Him: I’ve never been.

Me: Me neither. I’m operating on what I’ve read in liberal news media and what I’ve seen in movies like Congo.

Him: Take your coat off.

Me: Certainly. I’ll just throw it on the floor here.

Him: You’re funny.

Me: You’re pretty.

Him: Make out with me.

(We do.)

Him: Take your shirt off.

Me: Yessir.

(We take our shirts off. Bitchin’ make out session.)

Him: Take your pants off.

Me: Yessir

(We take our pants off. Bitchin’ make out session. It’s getting hard to contain ourselves. Get it?)

Him: Let’s get naked.

Me: How dare you. No, wait. I changed my mind again. That’s a great idea.

Him: Are you a bottom?

Me: What? Oh. Sex? Oh! Sex! Okay. Yes. No. I’m versatile. I’m the opposite of whatever your favorite thing to do is…

Him: Then you’re a bottom.

Me: I am indeed!

(We get naked. Bitchin’ make out session. Then, suddenly – he loses interest entirely. The evening goes limp.)

Him: I was afraid of this.

Me: What?

Him: I was afraid that this would happen. My penis stops working after a while.

Me: No! Stop it! It’s okay. Cut yourself some slack. You had a lot to drink. I watched you.

Him: No. What? No. I don’t have whiskey dick. Hahaha. No.

Me: What?

Him: I have a thing that happens. Once I get someone naked and it’s obvious that I can sleep with them, I lose interest.

Me: Heh. You’re funny.

Him: Please don’t make fun of me. It’s a real problem.

Me: I was going to say, why don’t we just go to sleep and give it a shot in the morning.

Him: Ha. Right. No.

Me: What?

Him: I think you should leave now.

Me: WHAT?

Him: It’s like this. I already got you naked. You already said you’d give me what I want. It’s kind of like I’ve already figured you out. I’m not going to be interested anymore.

Me: What? Heh. Ha. I uh… hm…

(He starts putting on clothes. He starts handing clothes to me. I start putting on clothes.)

Him: Yeah. It’s best if you just go home.

Me: I’m much farther away from home now than when you talked me into the cab.

Him: I’ll call you a car. You should go home.

Me: No. I’ll take the train. I should never have come here.

Him: Oh stop. I had fun.

Me: Yeah it was a blast. You’re a real great host. Thanks for having me over.

Him: It’s a real problem, okay? I have a problem with sex. I’d appreciate some sympathy.

Me: Awww… Sweet baby… Hey. I’m going to say something – please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?

Him: Okay.

Me: You’re an asshole. I don’t mean like self-absorbed like me and my comedy friends. I mean for real. You’re a real, true, asshole. I’m going to leave my card.

Him: What is this?

Me: I want you to check out my site, but wait a few days…

Him: Why?

Me: Because when people act like assholes on dates with me, I put it on the internet. Is that my coat? Thanks.

Him: What?

Me: Yeah! You’re famous! Congrats! And hey.

Enjoy playing mind games with someone else, Jerk.

(Surprise ending: I laughed about him the whole train ride home. I didn’t feel bad about myself.)

DOUBLE FEATURE!! Blueberry Double Crust Pie and Feta Quiche!!

March 9, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

I think we’re getting Blueberries from Southern California.

There are all these fruit carts in the city – just out on the sidewalks. You can almost always find seasonal vegetables and fruits there. My favorite time of the year is in the summer, where you can get loads of fresh berries – strawberries, blueberries and blackberries for super cheap. They’re so ripe and fresh and they’re so abundant that they practically give them away.

But something strange happened recently. The price of fresh berries went down. At the end of winter. I was skeptical, but I bought a pint. They were fresh and delicious.

Most of the time I’m pretty conscientious about eating local grown whole foods. But it’s the end of winter, and I’m fatigued and under sunned. FRESH BLUEBERRIES, y’all!!!

I coudn’t help myself. I made a Double Crust Blueberry Pie, plus a Feta, Red Pepper, Mushroom, and French Tarragon Quiche.

I put an egg wash on the pie. Just whipped up some egg whites and rubbed it on the top crust. Sprinkle it with cinnamon sugar, and It will make a very glossy, professional looking crust. Wash your hands first, dummy.

The quiche came out great too.

Here’s a recipe for the Blueberry Pie Filling:

Take 3 pints of blueberries and put them in a large mixing bowl.

Add 3 tablespoons of granulated sugar.

Add 3 tablespoons of cornstarch

Zest one lemon over the bowl

Mix.

Put the berries inside the pie shell and cover with the top crust. (egg wash optoional – WASH YOUR HANDS, DUMMY)

Bake at 425 for 15 min. Turn the heat down to 350 and bake for another 35-45 min. Use your head. You’ll be able to see and smell when it’s done.

Let it cool for two hours and then refrigerate over night. The cornstarch will firm up the runny berry juice.

What’s that? How do you make the crust? Funny you should ask. I’ll be offering classes in that very thing, shortly.

You’ll be able to come bake with me at different locations around New York City. Sorry to be mysterious, but if you’re really dying for a lesson, I offer private baking sessions too. Email me at piefolk@gmail.com

Enjoy the Pies, Jerks.

People Send Me Stuff

March 7, 2011March 9, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Hunter Kazorowski made this needlepoint and sent me a photo online.

People send me weird stuff online now. Some of it makes sense, given that this is a pithy gay pie blog. Some of it doesn’t.

But I love my readers, and you guys can continue to send me stuff. Just not creepy stuff, okay, guys? Seriously. No photos of poop. Unless, you know, it’s a miracle dump and the Virgin has appeared in it. Then, okay.

No, wait. Not even then. No poop. I want zero pictures of poop.

Oh poop. What was I talking about?

See? This is fine. Perfectly handsome young guy sent me a nice shot of his lean body. It was coupled with these pies he made:

What a nice guy. He wants to come bake with me. Maybe I’ll let him… He’s being pretty nice so far. We’ll see…

I love the freedom of the internet. I love how people are getting less afraid to live their lives openly.

I love that there’s something about my site that stirs people to send things to me. I feel lucky. I feel grateful.

Here’s a letter from a guy in Montreal:

This is an apple pie,as denoted by the apple decoration.
I picked the apples myself, they are cortlands.
I have a tendency to put a blend of ginger, cardamom, cloves, and cinnamon into an apple pie, a balance that does not overwhelm the apple taste is essential.
The crust also has some old cheddar in it.
It was very good, though the application of egg wash was not very uniform.
I would bake a pie with you sometime if you would like, sometime when I am in New York.
I live in Montreal, ever been?

This be me last time I was in New York.
I like your site, very entertaining.
Tell Kazu we have a very good izakaya bearing his name in the city, people are lined up out the door all the time.
Blake

Did you hear that, Little Brother? Blake (pictured above) says there’s a good izakaya in Montreal.

Aren’t my fellow gays sweet?

This guy is pretty beautiful, right? He lives a few states away but he wants to come bake with me this summer at some point. Okay, I said. Then I said, are you over 18? Then he said, 22. Then I said, bring ID. We can’t have the neighbors talking, after all…

Oh yeah: remember that artist, Lex Millena? He finished the watercolor he was making for me. It’s beautiful. Lex is beautiful.

Thanks Lex. Thanks, everyone. You guys are pretty awesome. Jerks.

ThursDATE

March 3, 2011March 9, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

My name is Michael Martin. I’m a baker and a comic in New York City. I’m gay. From time to time people ask me on dates. They see me on the internet. Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life problems, or lonliness. Invariably I prove them wrong:

The Last Of It.

March 2, 2011March 9, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

That’s the last of it, probably, right?

Winter’s loosening it’s grip.

It’s not over, but you can feel it in the air. It’s almost over.

There’s still a chill, here, in my kitchen. Winter’s hooks are still right outside the window. I haven’t yet taken my shoes off from outside, for fear my feet would suffer. They take much longer to warm up, now that I’m older.

I’ve been thinking about the internet a lot lately. I’ve had some real, vitriolic haters emerge, lately. Don’t get me wrong — there’s been much much more support and kindness, but a few nasty jerks have reared their heads, too. I’ve gained a lot a friends and lost a few.

That’s to be expected, I guess. But I’ve been thinking about the internet. Guys. What if we’re on the verge of something great here? What if we’re on the precipice of a huge leap forward for humankind? Hear me out on this:

What if humanity is about to move to a more golden age? Look! Dictatorships are toppling across the Middle East. Listen – the democratic murmurs arise from a new, powerful middle class in China. Feel – the stirrings of a new type of human experience – wait, that was just too much kimchee at dinner. But you understand what I’m driving at.

The internet is in its infancy, still. It’s helping to trigger revolutions, not just political ones, but economic and social ones. Look. I’m a grown man simultaneously broadcasting my thoughts on humanity, and pictures of pie, my Japanese little brother, and my butt crack. What I’m clearly trying to say is: Humanity We’ve Arrived.

We’re at that golden age we always dreamed of. All we need is a few more dictators to fall, a few more people to open their hearts, and a few more women elected in the senate. Seriously. They’re under represented. Gays too. Get on board gays, ladies, and gay ladies.

Yes, I’m telling Ellen to run for office.

Pretty soon it won’t be fashionable to hate things online. Pretty soon the world will move beyond that. Toward kindness.

I wonder where that will leave us? What happens when we, as humans, leap forward? I wonder what the haters will do, when it’s not fun and funny to snark it up and look for ways to tear down people they’re jealous of online?

No, fag, I’m not talking about the singularity. Unless, maybe I am? I’m not.

No, wait. I am:

I always thought of the internet as a human scream – the loudest ever heard.

What if that scream is just a symptom of its infancy?

What if it mellows out into a deep hum? What if we take that hum and build off it, until it rises.

Mighty and mature.

A heavenly chorus of voices. All singing at once. What if we become heaven? What if we all become the Horizon?

What if someday we’re so advanced, there’s no need for someone to come and tell us: Enjoy the pie, Jerks?

People Send Me Stuff

March 1, 2011March 9, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

From time to time people send me stuff on the internet. Usually it’s pies, or photographs of themselves naked, or not naked. Or all of the above. I think I scratch some sort of voyeuristic itch, maybe, for people – and they want to share in that feeling. To be seen. To bear witness to one another. Then again. Maybe people are just pervy.

That I can also live with.

Sometimes, people send me other stuff. Usually I don’t post it if it isn’t pie related or naked. Those are really my two demographics, right, guys? I’m going to answer for you, since you’re not writing this: YES.

This is Lex Millena

He lives in California and goes to art school.

Lex desscribes himself like this: A Jack of all trades but master of mediocrity, he strives for the idealistic image of perfection. He is a purveyor of dreams and an information hoarder. His insatiable lust for memories results in photographs, notebooks and songs all combating a fear of a transient mind strung around by shiny things. A subtle voice with obnoxious hair with the intent of being heard without saying a word.

Like I said. He goes to art school.

Here, I’ll prove it to you:

See?

Hm? What’s the fucking point, PIEFOLK? Good question. Well. I’ve been thinking of my ex boyfriend lately. His name is Carter and he’s a good man. Distracted, and wonderful, and wistful. He’s one of those people – you meet him and you know he’s kind before he even opens his mouth. He and I met 3 days after 9/11, in a Manhattan bar called Barracuda.

I’m not going to post a pic of him, because he strikes me as more private than all that, but trust me. He looks like a honey bear. Sitting on the shelf of a well lit sub-urban market. Glistening with perfect honey inside.

Carter’s going through a rough time right now.

Hm? What’s this got to do with the art school kid? Oh. This:

Lex, the naked guy from earlier? He made this video. It’s really powerful storytelling, I think. Especially the long walk up the dark stairs, and the smelling of the shirt.

I saw this and I couldn’t help but think of Carter. I found it incredibly moving.

Lex. Thanks for making me cry with your art school video. Jerk.

p.s. Lex asked me 1)if i know Zach Woods and 2)if he’s gay

Yes. No.

MonDATE

February 28, 2011March 9, 2011 by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sometimes people ask me on dates. They see me on the internet. Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life problems, or loneliness. Invariably I prove them wrong: