Meet the Spitzenbergs.


Dear Margaret--
(Can I call you Maggie?) I'd wanted the pie challenge to be between Howard and me. And, oh, okay... you. But me and my big mouth... I went and mentioned it to The Foodinista in a casual chat on Larchmont Blvd. earlier this week. She went and had lunch that day with the editor of LA Weekly. And the rest, well, the rest is just plain Out of My Hands. It is going to be an event. Not to be competitive here, but there are going to be winners and losers, and I hate to lose. (Ask H. I'm sure he knows how I feel.) I started on my apple research at the Santa Monica farmers market last weekend. I had to fight with Gjilena for four pounds of Spitzenbergs and I don't even know what they are or how to spell that stupid restaurant's name. (Who has money for extra consonants these days? That's what I want to know!). Next I have to turn my attention to crust. (Lard almighty! How I love crust!)
In the meantime, let's eat. xoxo


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